


Born to be Kings

by Kadorienne



Category: Snow White and the Huntsman (2012), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Intersex Loki, Jotunheim, Jotunn | Frost Giant, King Loki, M/M, Mpreg, Odin's A+ Parenting, Pseudo-Incest, Thorki - Freeform, Thunderfrost - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-11
Updated: 2014-05-09
Packaged: 2017-12-19 03:36:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 43
Words: 66,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/878964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kadorienne/pseuds/Kadorienne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the princes of Asgard made their ill-fated jaunt to Jotunheim, Odin arrived to fetch them before the frost giant grabbed Loki's arm. Odin was able to carry out his plan to make Loki his puppet king of Jotunheim. But how long will Loki remain an obedient puppet?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Many of the concepts in this story about how MCU magic or interrealm politics work are inspired by the fascinating blog [Worldbuilding MCU!Asgard](http://exploringmcuasgard.tumblr.com).

“Don’t let them touch you!” Volstagg’s warning rang out over the clanging of steel and the battle cries.

As if on cue the next Jotun Loki stabbed gripped Loki’s forearm as he sank to his knees, putting him at eye level with Loki. Loki tried, uselessly, to fight his way free, but the giant’s strength was prodigious. Even through the mail Loki could feel the cold of the Jotun’s grasp. The mail froze and began to shatter around Loki’s arm. Loki fumbled for another dagger, bracing himself for the pain of the frostbite about to come.

An instant before the frost giant’s freezing grip would have touched Loki’s skin, the giant released him, recoiling from a flash of blinding light behind Loki. Loki turned, knowing already what he would see. His father, come to rescue them - and drag them home by the ears, and the Norns alone knew what he would do to them once they got there.

 _Why_ couldn’t Father have seen that Thor wasn’t ready? A king as wise as Odin should not have been so blinded by fatherly affection. Why had Loki had to go to such lengths? Why hadn’t Father come before the fighting had begun? And Loki had almost gotten them out without bloodshed, but of course the mighty Thor couldn’t just walk away from someone who called him a princess. 

“Father!” Thor’s yell echoed through the icy ruins. “We’ll finish them together!”

Loki loved Thor with all his heart. More than one should love a brother, to be honest. But why did his brave, handsome, open-hearted brother have to be such a damned idiot?

“Silence, boy!”

And now after indulging and spoiling Thor for centuries, Father was going to be far angrier at him than Loki had ever wanted, even at his most exasperated, his most envious. Loki’s mind raced, looking for some way that he might mend this, might soften the disaster. He could barely focus as his father and the enemy spoke.

War. All because Loki’s tongue hadn’t been silver enough to make Father see. All because Thor couldn’t swallow an insult from a churl. Loki shivered, and it had nothing to do with the biting wind of Jotunheim.

And then they were hurtling through the Void again, back to Asgard.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back on Asgard, Thor must face the consequences of marching into Jotunheim.

Father and Thor scarcely waited until their feet met the ground before they began yelling at each other. 

“Why did you bring us back?”

“Do you know what you’ve done, what you’ve started?”

“I was protecting my home!”

“You cannot even protect your friends, how can you hope to protect the kingdom? Get him to the healing room.”

Volstagg hardly needed help walking to the healing room with a frostbitten arm, but Heimdall, Sif and the rest of the Three took the hint and left with him, leaving their king and their prince to yell at each other in privacy. Loki stood still, waiting, listening. Fearing.

“There won’t be a kingdom to protect if you’re afraid to act! The Jotuns must learn to fear me, just as they once feared you!”

“That’s pride and vanity talking, not leadership. You’ve forgotten everything I’ve taught you about a warrior’s patience.”

_Forgotten?_ Thor had never learned those lessons to begin with.

“While you wait and be patient, the Nine Realms laughs at us! The old ways are done. You’d stand giving speeches while Asgard falls!”

Loki winced. It was true, of course. The loss of the Tesseract had made Asgard vulnerable, and so had Father’s advancing age, the gradual weakening of his magic. Svartalfheim and Muspelheim were growing more restless all the time, waiting for their chance to challenge Asgard. If Asgard’s forces were occupied in war with Jotunheim, and some other realm chose that moment to attack….

Why couldn’t Father have seen that Thor on the throne before his brashness was reined in would be too perilous? He truly needed the respite of the Odinsleep. Fatigue was clouding the All-Father’s judgment. If only he retained enough wisdom to know that Mother must act as regent again, that Thor was not yet ready. Even Loki would have been a better choice, but of course Father would never set Loki above Thor, not even temporarily. Though really, seeing his little brother favored for once after all these centuries would be the best possible remedy for Thor’s vanity.

Loki closed his eyes for a second against the razor-sharp pang of longing at the thought. Of being the favored son, just for once. Just for a little while. Just for a day. Of triumphing over his beloved, infuriating brother. Just once. Just for a little while. 

“You are a vain, greedy, cruel boy!”

Thor relinquished what little control he had yet had over his temper. _“And you are an old man and a fool!”_

The words echoed in the sudden silence. Loki did not dare to breathe. Even Thor was beginning to look as if he realized he had gone too far. 

_Apologize, you fool,_ Loki thought at him. _Beg forgiveness. It isn’t as if he would refuse you anything._

But Thor only stood, apprehensive, while Father bowed his head, weary. 

“Yes, I was a fool. To think you were ready.”

Up until an hour ago, those words from Father would have filled Loki with such relief. Now - things had spiraled well out of control. There was no time to think and strategize, Loki would have to confess that it was he who had admitted the frost giants into the weapons vault and endure the consequences. He took a step forward. “Father-“

Father turned a blazing one-eyed glare on Loki, jabbed a fist in his direction.

“HUARGHHUGAHH!”

Only once before had Loki seen so much rage from Father directed at him - the first time Odin had caught his sons in a decidedly un-brotherly embrace. Given the choice, Loki would have preferred to face a few hundred angry frost giants.

Loki’s courage failed him. He should confess, he knew he should, but Father’s wrath had frozen him. He could not speak or move. He could only watch, appalled, as Asgard’s golden prince was turned into a common mortal and banished to the most backward, uncivilized realm in the Nine.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor's friends discuss his banishment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After this chapter this fic will diverge from canon almost completely.

At least Thor’s friends had finally begun to realize that perhaps, just perhaps, they should occasionally consider not following Thor on illegal jaunts to hostile realms full of frost giants thirsty for their blood. Had this dawned on them centuries ago, had they not always joined Thor in his folly and encouraged him, he might have outgrown his rashness long since and been ready to be a good king now.

“We should never have let him go!” Volstagg was mourning, with his usual talent for stating the obvious. Hogun wordlessly began to apply ointment to his frostbitten arm. It was his right arm, the one with which he wielded a fork. This injury would be a trial indeed. 

Sif shook her head. “There was no stopping him.”

“At least he’s only banished, not dead.” Fandral sat forward. “Which is what we’d all be if that guard hadn’t told Odin where we’d gone.”

Volstagg frowned, suddenly making a connection. “How did the guard even know?”

Loki did not allow himself to hesitate. “I told him.”

Fandral looked up. “What?”

“I told him to go to Odin after we’d left,” Loki explained patiently. “He should be flogged for taking so long, we should never have reached Jotunheim.”

And naturally, they all turned to him, outraged. “ _You_ told the guard?!” Volstagg moved as if to spring to his feet and challenge Loki on the spot, but of course he didn’t, the fat fool.

“I saved our lives,” Loki pointed out, caustic. “And Thor’s.” Not that he expected them to appreciate it. Any more than they had appreciated his veiling them all in smoke that time in Nornheim, or making illusory doubles of them all in Muspelheim, or any of the other times he had saved their lives with cleverness and magic instead of brainless courage. If only he could just let them die a time or two. But they were all still staring at him, apparently furious at being alive and safe on Asgard instead of dead on Jotunheim, so he added, “I had no idea Father would banish him for what he did.”

Sif rose and moved toward him. He knew what she was going to say before she spoke. She only looked at him this way, directly and as if she saw him (the beardless _ergi_ who preferred magic to battle) as an equal, when she wanted something from him. Usually something for Thor’s benefit.

“Loki, you must go to the All-Father and convince him to change his mind!”

At least it was a compliment to his silver tongue. 

In his peripheral vision he could see that the others were hanging on to their words, all hoping that Loki would talk their angry king into giving their foolhardy friend back to them so he could risk their idiot necks on more reckless adventures. Never had Thor come so close to getting them all killed as he had today, and still he commanded the same unwavering loyalty. And not a word of thanks to Loki for saving their wretched lives.

“And if I do, then what?” Frustration made Loki’s voice harsh. “I love Thor more dearly than any of you, but you _know_ what he is! He’s arrogant, he’s reckless, he’s dangerous.” He held her gaze, but she only jutted her chin stubbornly. “Is that what Asgard needs from its king?”

Abruptly his patience ran out. There was no use talking to any of them. They would follow Thor right into a dragon’s mouth and never think twice about it. It was the only useful thing about them, that their loyalty to Thor as unquestioned as it was unquestioning. Loki could rely on them to watch his brother’s back. But what did they care for the good of Asgard, for the peace among the Nine Realms, so long as they had their golden prince to battle and drink with them?

Loki turned and stalked to the door. Sif, tactful as always, waited until he was within several feet of the door before saying to the Three, “He may speak of the good of Asgard, but he has always been jealous of Thor.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Asgard, and Loki, prepare for war with Jotunheim.

To Loki, the request seemed to be a matter of course. Else he would never have made it. 

He and Father were closeted with Tyr, Njord and all of Asgard’s generals, laying plans for the imminent war with Jotunheim. It was a somber meeting, not like the councils of war Loki had attended before. Usually the tone was one of anticipation. Asgard’s warriors relished any chance for more glory. And Thor was always at his most boisterously happy when he had the prospect of a good fight.

All the men in the room, with the exception of Loki, remembered the last war with Jotunheim. It had been long and bloody. The Jotnar were brutal warriors, their realm a frozen wasteland. The cold had killed as many Aesir as the icy blades of the frost giants.

If there was one realm the Aesir had hoped never to war with again, it was Jotunheim.

The plan was to strike swiftly, before Laufey could solicit magical aid from Svartalfheim with which he might send his armies between realms. Asgard would crush Jotunheim without delay. Among the many questions to be settled was who would command Thor’s legion, with the elder prince in exile.

As Asgard’s only remaining prince (for the moment; Loki never doubted Father would relent in time), of course Loki was the obvious choice. The only reason he brought it up himself, and in the form of a request, was to display his readiness to serve Asgard. It was a matter of form.

“Father, I request the command of Thor’s regiment. Allow me to lead them against Jotunheim.”

Instead of the approving nod Loki had expected, Father looked at him in surprise. “You will not be fighting in this war, Loki.”

Loki thought he could not have heard correctly. “What?”

“You will be more useful when we have defeated Jotunheim and it is time to negotiate a new treaty. Until then….” Father smiled as if to himself, looking at the maps unrolled before him. “You may serve Asgard best by going to the library and studying everything there concerning frost giants.”

Loki could only stare at Father. And then he noticed the fleeting smirks on the faces of the others, and humiliation curdled his stomach. How could Father brush him aside him this way? And in front of his generals?

Father was not even looking at him, he had been effectively dismissed. Loki took a moment to control his voice. “If that is your wish, Father.”

He would appeal Father’s decision, of course. But arguing with him before people outside the family was one certain way to make him immovable. Even Thor knew that. And only forgot it occasionally. For now, Loki stood, bowed, and left the room.

Before retreating to the library, he went to the Observatory. He meant to do so every day until Thor returned. He approached Heimdall and asked without preamble, “How fares my brother?”

“He has found shelter with a scholarly lady who wishes to understand her glimpses of the Bifrost.”

“What is this lady like? Is she trustworthy?” Loki added the second question quickly. He had never been certain how much Heimdall knew about his relationship with Thor, but still he did not wish Heimdall to guess the question uppermost in his mind. Even though he and Thor had vowed never again to surrender to their perverse desires (and this time they truly meant it), still he hoped the Norns might have granted that this lady scholar be elderly and ugly. Or married, at least. Burdened with half a dozen children. Or inclined only towards members of her own sex.

“She is no threat to him. She wishes above all for his knowledge of Asgardian magic.”

Then the poor lady was to be cruelly disappointed. Though come to think of it, to a human, even Thor’s sketchy understanding would be a revelation. She could be kept occupied for a mortal lifetime with whatever he told her. And perhaps exile would be good for Thor. Surely banishment would relieve him of a little of his arrogance. Father was a wise man, there must be a purpose to his actions. There always was.

“Was he hurt by his fall?”

“Even without his powers, the Odinson’s strength is prodigious.”

_The_ Odinson. As if there were only one. Loki left without allowing himself more questions. With resignation he found a thick volume about Jotunheim and settled down to read it.

It was evening before he had a chance to speak to Father privately. He had scarcely begun to voice his request before Father cut him off. “Have I no obedient sons?”

The words burned Loki. “You know I will obey you, Father. I merely ask you to reconsider. I know I am not the warrior Thor is, but I too wish to serve Asgard!”

Father looked at him then, truly _looked_ at him, searchingly. Loki held his gaze steadily. One day he would make his father proud. This could be that chance, if Father would only allow it. There would never be a better one; nothing Loki did would impress if Thor were there, his radiance casting everyone else into the shadows.

“You truly wish to serve Asgard?” Father asked.

Why was there any question? “How could I not, Father? I am your son.”

Father’s lined face creased into a smile, and it was a balm to Loki’s wounded pride. “Soon you will have the opportunity to perform a great service for Asgard, if you are willing.”

Loki’s pulse quickened. “What must I do?”

“All will be made clear in time. Until then, apply yourself to your studies.”

Bitterly disappointed, in the days that followed Loki nonetheless obeyed. He filled a ledger with notes that might be of use once the war was over. He tried not to dwell on Heimdall’s reports of Thor. Heimdall had finally mentioned that the “scholar lady” who had taken Thor in was in fact young and beautiful. And unattached. The presence of another young lady, reportedly a pretty one, in the household gave Loki hope until Heimdall dashed it; the ladies were, Heimdall intoned, as sisters to each other. (Loki wondered if the choice of words was pointed.) When Loki had asked, without optimism, if the lady’s family would not supervise her virtue, Heimdall explained that she had none - no family, that was, though Loki supposed that she had no virtue either, what with being beautiful and without protectors - and that in any case the custom of chaperonage had all but disappeared from Midgard. This was why Loki so seldom bothered to study Midgard; the mayfly span of humans, and their compulsion to change everything all of the time, made anything one learned about them obsolete long before it could be of use.

It was only two days after his plea to Father that Loki divined what his service to Asgard was to be. He was in the library, reading about Jotunheim’s marriage customs. The Jotnar did not have men and women, according to the books. Each of them was both at the same time, and inheritance went through the line of bearing more often than through the line of siring.

In the midst of untangling these utterly alien customs, abruptly it dawned upon Loki what Father intended for him. Loki was to be married, a union that would strengthen the alliance with some other realm. The words before him faded; all he could see, all he could feel was his own shame. Father counted his worth as so negligible that only as a breeding stud could he be of use. He would be shackled to some foreign princess, possibly even forced to leave Asgard.

He wished he could put this grim fate out of his mind until the unhappy day came, but his mind was running over the family trees of all the realms, listing likely candidates. Vanaheim, if he was lucky - Vanaheim respected scholars, and it boasted several princesses and duchesses of appropriate age and rank. One of them might even be tolerable to live with. Unfortunately, Alfheim was just as likely, and had fewer possibilities. Surely even for the good of Asgard, Father would not burden Loki with Princess Coselli. 

Loki was unable to concentrate on reading for the rest of that day, and at last gave it up and joined Mother in her garden. Her presence soothed him, as did her quiet faith that Father would relent when Thor had learned his lesson. Sitting beside her, listening to her gentle voice, Loki accepted his fate. He would marry whatever lady Father chose for him, and no matter how disagreeable she was, he would do his best to form a good union with her, to do his duty to her and to Asgard. To his family.

He was not happy at the prospect, but he was resolved.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor returns to Asgard, and Loki is informed of his destiny.

After trying and failing to lift Mjölnir, Thor devoted himself to moping. How could Father be so cruel to him? He had only been trying to prove his worth by following in Father’s footsteps, teaching frost giants a lesson about defying Asgard. He had thought that finding and reclaiming Mjölnir was a test for him, that Father would bring him back once he succeeded in it - and once Father’s anger had cooled. But instead the hammer had been as immovable to him as it was to everyone else. And now Thor was stranded here on Midgard, alone. Apparently forever.

It just went to show how old Father had gotten. Asgard needed Thor now more than ever, with war brewing with Jotunheim. Loki would probably be put in command of Thor’s regiment, and would waste opportunities with caution and probably do something sneaky instead of something that would demonstrate the courage of Asgard to all the realms and put them in awe for a thousand years.

It burned Thor, thinking of all the glory he was being forced to miss.

Besides… Loki was a fine warrior when he wasn’t indulging in his tricks, no one knew that better than Thor who had trusted Loki at his back for a thousand years. He was not Thor’s equal in this, but few were. Nonetheless the thought of Loki in battle without Thor to protect him worried Thor. Loki had always been so desperate to prove himself to Father, he would do something foolish and be hurt.

It was even possible - not likely, but possible - that without Thor on the battlefield, Asgard might actually lose.

He answered Jane Foster’s relentless questions about the Bifrost because he had little else to do with his time. And because she would not cease interrogating him about it, no matter how many times he put her off. Her insatiable curiosity reminded him of Loki. She was clever, for a human. A pity she had been born here instead of in some realm more worthy of her.

Jane’s servant, Darcy, asked him to lie with her one night and he complied, hoping for some pleasant distraction. Darcy enjoyed their encounter thoroughly, Thor saw to that, but afterwards grew angry. Why he did not quite understand, but as he was currently obliged to share a roof with her, Thor tried to placate her. He calmly apologized for whatever Midgardian custom he had offended against, explaining that such had not been his intention. Darcy was not particularly mollified by this and avoided him afterwards. Jane seemed to be annoyed with him as well. A few days later it occurred to him that Jane had wanted him for her own bed, which he thought explained it; as mistress of the house, of course her desires should have taken precedence. Well, she should have told her maidservant that she wanted Thor. It was hardly Thor’s fault that Darcy had offered herself before Jane had.

The old man, Erik Selvig, made vague threats to Thor concerning the chastity of both ladies, which Thor listened to politely, marveling at the man’s foolishness. Even in mortal form Thor could have defeated Selvig in a duel with ridiculous ease, and Selvig had no sons or vassals to take challenges for him. But it was in the nature of humans to take on challenges they could not hope to meet.

Thor was sitting in front of Jane’s peculiarly shaped house with the mortals, again struggling to remember his childhood lessons under her intense questioning, when the Bifrost opened. Nobody came through, but the shimmering path was there, awaiting him.

The humans all leapt to their feet, staring awed as mortals invariably did at the power of their betters. Thor hurried to the Bifrost, joyful, ignoring Jane’s shouted questions. And a minute later he was back in Asgard. And Mjölnir with him.

To his disappointment, Heimdall was the only one awaiting him. “Where is Father?”

“In the weapons vault, with Loki.”

Excitement quickened his pulse. He lifted his hand and Mjölnir came to it obediently. “Are they going to use the relics against the Jotnar?”

“The war with Jotunheim is over.”

Thor scowled. Father must have been angry indeed, to deny Thor a chance for glory that would not come again for a thousand years. He hadn’t been this angry even when he had discovered his sons’ unnatural passion for each other. Not any of the times he had discovered it.

The old fool. It would serve him right if Thor committed his old sin again. He decided at once that he would ask Loki at the first opportunity. He and Loki had vowed, of course, but he had seldom failed to change Loki’s mind in the past. He smiled in anticipation of having his beautiful, mercurial, clever brother in his bed again.

When he reached the weapons vault, the guards opened the heavy doors at his order and closed them behind him. Loki and Father were deep in the vault, standing before the Casket, Loki facing away from Thor.

Loki’s head was bowed. His shoulders were shaking.

“Have you no gratitude?” Father was demanding. “I am giving you a throne!”

Thor drew up short, then hurried toward them. Father couldn’t mean that, no matter how angry he was. Loki had many merits, but he was not fashioned to be a king. 

“Father,” Thor protested as he descended the stairs, “surely I have been punished enough. I have returned and am ready to resume my duties.”

Loki did not turn to greet him - he even shifted to keep his back to Thor, still weeping. 

Father spared Thor a glance. “Thor, assemble a hundred loyal men to accompany Loki to Jotunheim.”

“Jotunheim? Heimdall said the war was over!”

“And Jotunheim’s new king will require troops to enforce his rule.”

“Laufey is dead?”

“And his eldest son will now rule and maintain peace with Asgard.” Father gave Loki a little glare.

Loki caught his breath, lifted his head a little. “Father, please do not send me away.”

“It is your duty to me! I could have left you to die as an infant.”

“What is this about?” Thor came closer, reached to fold his little brother in a consoling embrace. Loki jerked away from him and covered his face with hands that looked blue in the reflected light of the Casket.

But in the instant before Loki’s face was covered, Thor saw-

He seized Loki’s hands, which were icy cold, as if he had just come inside from a snowy day. Loki tried to resist as Thor pulled them down, but Thor was far stronger and Loki could not hide from him.

Thor stared. His little brother’s tear-stained face was… _blue._ Not from the Casket’s light. His eyes were red, but not from crying. Symmetrical curved lines adorned his face.

Thor jerked back, and Loki covered his face again. “Father, what have you done?” Thor whispered.

“I have saved Loki’s life.” 

And as Loki stood before them sobbing into his hands, Father swiftly told the story. Of a Jotun infant, a royal runt exposed to die during the last war. Father seeing the opportunity, enchanting the infant to look Asgardian and raising it as his own. And now, the culmination of his plans - an Aesir-raised Jotun prince to reign in Jotunheim, creating a permanent peace. In return for accepting Loki as their king, the Jotnar would have the use of their Casket for one day out of every year, to heal the devastation of the wars and of a thousand years without the source of their power.

One fact loomed above all others in Thor’s mind. “Loki is… not my brother?”

“Loki is my son, with all of a son’s duties. Your brother claimed he wished to serve Asgard, to serve me, but it seems that was just another of his lies.” Father’s voice was biting.

Not raising his head, Loki gasped out, “Why didn’t you tell me what I was from the beginning?”

“I wanted only to protect you from the truth.”

“Why? Because I am the monster parents tell their children about at night?”

“Why must you twist my words?”

Loki’s head snapped up, fury on his altered face. “It all makes sense _now_ , why you favored Thor, _all these years!”_ He advanced on Father, who actually took a step back. “Because no matter how much you claim to love me, you could never have a _frost giant_ sitting on the throne of Asgard!”

Loki’s words rang in the silence of the vault for a long moment.

Then Father turned away. “Perhaps,” he snapped to Thor, “ _you_ can make your brother see his duty!” With that he stalked out, leaving his sons alone together.

Loki stared after Father with an utterly lost expression. Even now, Thor felt the impulse to comfort him, but the blue skin and ruby eyes of his realm’s enemies kept him where he was.

When Father was gone, Loki’s strange new eyes turned to Thor. The pleading expression was both strange and familiar, the frightened voice had not changed as Loki held out a hand with upturned blue palm. “Thor-“

Thor took a swift step back, before the frostbite touch could reach him. Loki pulled his hand back and sank to his knees, staring at nothing as the tears continued to run silently down his strangely lined face.

For a thousand years Thor had learned that blue skin and red eyes were monstrous. He had not changed his view now. But even in this enemy form, this was still _Loki_ weeping at his feet, his brother and companion and sometimes more.

Awkwardly Thor squatted beside Loki, trying to think of something to say. “Maybe it isn’t real. Maybe you made Father angry and he put this spell on you to-“

“It’s real.” Loki’s voice was weary. “I am a sorcerer too, Thor. I can feel the difference between having a spell put on me and having one stripped away.”

Thor hesitantly put his hand on Loki’s shoulder. Even through Loki’s coat he thought he could feel cold radiating from him. “At least you’ll get to be king.”

“You know I never wanted to be king.”

“You said-“

“I said I wanted him to _consider_ me. He kept pretending that there was a question which of us would succeed him, but it was always so obvious he never actually thought of me.”

“Because he had another throne for you!” 

“Would _you_ like to be king of Jotunheim?”

Thor thought of that dark, freezing world and looked away. “But you will do it, will you not? For Asgard?”

Loki closed his eyes for a moment and said nothing.

“Brother, I know it is a great sacrifice but it is necessary to keep the peace between the realms. You-“

Loki’s bitter voice cut him off. “At least the mighty Thor is not guilty of the sin of incest.”

The words summoned memories that Thor usually tried to keep at bay, memories he sometimes guiltily relived and cherished. And the images changed, his brother’s familiar body became alien and cold, and he guilty of a far worse abomination than incest.

Loki’s voice became cutting. “You would rather you _had_ been fucking your brother, wouldn’t you?”

Thor could not answer.

Without another word Loki rose and stalked to the door. Before leaving the vault he straightened his clothes and wiped the tears from his face, and walked out with his back straight and his head high. Like a prince. Even if he was a prince of monsters.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki struggles with his fate.

For the next several days, Loki hid in his chambers, seeing no one. The first thing he did was break every mirror he had. He stayed up late that first night, unable to stop crying, and when he finally slept, he woke several times from nightmares of ice and darkness, of his own brother not recognizing him, of Thor slaying him along with the other monsters, laughing that berserker laugh. 

Watching the melancholy light of dawn, Loki wished that he could still dread marriage to Princess Coselli (fair of face and poisonous of tongue) and a life in Alfheim. He would have given the Nine Realms to be the second favorite son of Odin again, would have settled with gratitude for his old place in the shade of Thor’s greatness. Because no matter what Father (no, not father) had said, Loki was not foolish enough not to see what he truly was. A pawn to be played in maintaining the All-Father’s power. A stolen relic, locked up with the Casket and the Gauntlet and the Destroyer, until the All-Father might have use of them. 

Loki spent a great deal of time brooding over his centuries of efforts to impress his supposed father. Everything he had done, how hard he had striven, every tear he had privately shed over yet another failure. He had poured so much of himself into that futile campaign and now he knew it had been completely hopeless all along. He could have saved himself so much labor and so much heartbreak. Odin was not his father and would never love him a fraction as much as he loved his son.

Each morning a tray of food materialized on the table by the window. Loki supposed one of the palace’s petty mages had been tasked to keep him fed while he was barricaded in his room. The first three days, he could not eat at all. He would have liked to get drunk, but there was no wine in his quarters and he was not going to step out to order some. Walking past so many palace guards to get from the vault to his room had been ordeal enough. None had challenged him, he supposed Fa- the king must have warned them, but he could feel their furtive stares. The only mercy was that no one else had been about.

Eventually, he began to eat again. Only a few bites each day. Nausea made even that a chore, but hunger forced him to worry a little food down. He found that meat offended his stomach less - cooked rare, as he had always preferred. Now he knew why. Jotnar were carnivores and ate their meat raw, living as they did in a world of ice. The stories said that they ate the flesh of their slain enemies. Defiant children were warned that frost giants might eat them if they did not mend their ways.

On the fourth day, Loki could endure his curiosity no longer. With apprehension he slowly removed the clothes he had put on the day Father (not Father) took him into the vault. They had become a torment; in this form the pleasant Asgardian spring felt boiling hot, and his customary clothing stifled him. But he hadn’t wanted to see one inch more blue skin than he could help. His blue hands, mocking him endlessly, were bad enough.

He removed the leather coat first. Then the green undershirt. His build was the same, only blue. And his nipples were gone. He wondered how frost giants fed their children, then decided he didn’t want to know. 

Unwilling to summon a servant to pull his boots off for him, Loki used magic to make them dematerialize. His feet looked the same, only, again, blue.

He hesitated, then berated himself for his cowardice. As if his thoughts hadn’t returned to this again and again since the moment his not-father had pressed his hand to the Casket and shattered his life. Loki gritted his teeth and stripped off his trousers.

His prick was still there, at least, and aside from the color it looked the same as usual. But his testicles were gone. It made sense when he considered it dispassionately. A man’s seed must be kept outside his body lest his body heat kill it. A Jotun must not generate enough heat to kill his own seed. Only it was impossible to consider one’s own genitalia dispassionately.

He allowed himself a minute before searching for a substitute for a mirror. A polished silver bowl which he used in his magic was shiny enough for the purpose. He held it in his hand for what seemed a long time before laying it on his bed and placing one foot on the mattress beside it. Then reluctantly angled the bowl so he could see.

Then he vomited the few bites of meat he had eaten into the bowl, waved his hand to extinguish all the lights in the room, and laid on the bed without moving until the next morning.

Every couple of days, a guard pounded on the bolted door and declared that the king demanded his presence. Loki ignored the summons each time. If Odin wanted to see him, he could have the door broken down and his adopted son dragged to him.

No one else came to his door.

At first this was a relief, but as the days passed it began to sting. Had Thor or Mother (not Mother; Queen Frigga) asked to see him he would have refused, but for them not to ask was a disappointment.

Eventually, the longing for the soothing presence of his mother overwhelmed him. He had been closeted in his room for over a week. One morning at dawn he washed, put on one of his finest suits, and stepped into the corridor.

He had chosen this early hour because few people other than servants and guards would be about. He still felt their stares heavy on his cold skin, but no one interfered with him. 

Eventually, unless perhaps Odin relented and cast his spell again and gave Loki his accustomed form back, Loki would have to let other people of rank see him. That would be an ordeal. Even ruling a realm of monsters might be better than the Aesir gawking at him.

He reached his mother’s chambers and a maidservant announced and admitted him. His mother’s beautiful face was sorrowful, and she studied him with a sort of horrified fascination.

“Actually seeing it is different from knowing about it, I suppose,” he said, stopping several paces away from her. He had rather hoped for a comforting embrace, but really that was too much to expect, even from a heart as generous as Frigga’s. At least, not until she’d had a little time to get used to his new aspect.

“I could hardly believe it when your father told me,” she whispered, her eyes moving over him.

“Told you?” 

“Of course, you were always a sickly babe, until we dismissed the wet nurse and started you on pureed meat, but I never thought….” She shook her head, still scrutinizing him. 

“You never thought what?” But already a dread suspicion was dawning.

“I asked him to be honest with you from the start. There should be no secrets in a family. It was only a few days ago, when he told me the rest, that I understood why he was not.”

Fresh horror crept through Loki. He spoke through numb lips. “He didn’t tell you that you were raising a frost giant.”

Frigga looked away.

“How could he do this to you?” Bad enough to play such a trick on an enemy foundling, but to so deceive his own wife….

Frigga pressed a hand to her mouth, suppressing a sob.

Loki stepped toward her at once, reaching to comfort her, but she flinched away.

Whether it was from revulsion or from sensible fear of the freezing touch Jotnar could summon, it mattered not. Loki had no reactions left. Numbly he turned to go. He could hear his not-mother saying his name, but he simply left. All of his life, she had loved him as if he were her own, had loved him just as much as the more glorious fruit of her own womb. He could hardly ask for more now.

When he returned to his own chambers, he was not surprised to find his not-father waiting for him, seated at the table by the window. The table had been piled with slices of rare meat, strawberry tarts, roasted mushrooms, all of Loki’s favorites.

Despite his still sour stomach, the aroma awakened Loki’s hunger. Still he gave the food only a cursory glance.

“Couldn’t you find any naughty Asgardian children for me to gobble up?”

“Don’t be childish. Sit down and eat.”

A thousand years of obedience had Loki complying before he thought to resist. He took one reluctant nibble of strawberry tart and a few minutes later realized he had eaten most of the food that had been brought to him.

Feeling slightly better despite himself, Loki raised his eyes. Father - no, _Odin_ \- had closed his eye, his wrinkled face drawn.

“Are you all right, Fa- my king?”

“I am weary, my son.”

Loki regarded him, somber. “You need to Sleep.”

Odin nodded slowly, opening his eye and gazing out the window, his expression grave. “And Thor will have to spend his first regency presiding over a freshly minted peace.” 

“Mother should serve as regent again.”

“Thor must take the throne permanently one day. There is no sense delaying his regency.”

“He would have done well enough with me to help him. I studied so hard so that I could advise him wisely when-“ Loki heard the tremor in his own voice and stopped, looking away. 

“All of these years, Loki, your cleverness and your loyalty have been a comfort to me. I knew that when this day came, you would serve Asgard well.”

The words twisted in Loki’s gut. “You could have warned me about what you wanted that cleverness and loyalty for.”

There was a long silence before Odin spoke again.

“I will change you back, if you wish.”

Loki’s relief lasted only for a moment. “All Asgard now knows what I am.”

Odin said nothing.

“If you change me back, they will still know and still shun me. I have no more place in Asgard.”

Odin let those words hang for a few moments before speaking again. “Will you do what I am asking, Loki? Will you unite the kingdoms? Bring about permanent peace?”

Loki closed his eyes.

This was the purpose for which Odin had saved his life and raised him. It was his last, absolutely last hope of making his father proud. 

Loki was no longer naïve enough to simply believe that his labor would be rewarded. But he knew that if he did not do as his foster father asked, he would spend the rest of his life wondering if Odin would have loved him for it.

He opened his eyes, and spoke evenly.

“How do you mean to choose the warriors you are sending with me?”

Odin’s deeply lined face creased in a smile. “Your brother chose one hundred loyal men, as I ordered.”

Loki shook his head. “Whatever their loyalty, I doubt many of them wish to leave Asgard for… however long they must stay to support me. I request that you assemble the army, tell them much the same as you have told me, and ask for volunteers. And I request that I be at your side as you do, that they will understand that it is your wish that they protect and obey me.”

“You see? I knew you would be clever at this. We can do this tomorrow, when the regiments are assembled for your brother’s coronation.”

“My - oh, of course. You can’t have me being a king before Thor. Not with him being the elder. It would be like betrothing your younger daughter while her elder sister was yet a spinster.”

“Release your venom if you must, but have a care who hears you doing so, my son.”

“You know that I always have… Father.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The sons of Odin become kings.

Thor’s second coronation was a far less joyful affair. Even during the opening procession it was clear the mood of the people had changed. At first Loki thought it was merely everyone’s curiosity to finally see with their own eyes the younger prince’s true nature. 

He had to make the walk alone. Usually it fell to him to escort the Queen to the dais, but this time she walked alone, ahead of him. It was such a small duty, a small privilege, but being relieved of it hurt more than he would have imagined.

As Loki crossed the vast throne room, whispers filled the room as surely as cheers had filled it before. A perfect summary of the difference between his destiny and Thor’s. Loki had intended to keep his expression haughty, but a glimpse of the scandalized stares around him inspired his mischief and he allowed a smirk to curl his lips. With every step he let his gaze fall on one spectator after another, ruby eyes sparkling at their fright. Halfway to the dais he locked eyes with a lady of the court who had invited him to her bed some weeks ago. He had been more flattered than ardent, her attentions seemed so sincere. Thus at least it was only his pride which had been hurt when after a few days her former lover had returned to her and Loki realized that making the man jealous had been her sole objective. Now, seeing how queasily she looked at him, Loki widened his smirk and let his gaze rest for a taunting second on her abdomen. The horror on her face was sweet to him. For weeks she would worry that she had been infected with a half-Jotun babe. Let her consider this the next time she toyed with someone’s affections.

He took his accustomed place on the dais, below the Queen, who he carefully did not look at. Thor’s friends all stared at him - their companion and shield-brother for centuries - as if they had never seen him before. He grinned saucily at them as if the deception had been his. As if it were all a grand prank he had played, disguising himself as an Asgardian and tricking unsuspecting Aesir into fighting at his side. It worked; they turned away, annoyed. Only Hogun continued to study him.

When Thor made his entrance, this time there was no cheering, no wild applause. Instigating another war with Jotunheim had dimmed everyone’s enthusiasm for the elder prince. Just as Loki had hoped, but the victory was hollow.

Thor hardly knew what to do. He marched to the dais unsmiling, with none of his usual showing off. No tossing Mjölnir in the air or winking or any of that sort of thing.

Loki had always thought he would like to see his brother in a subdued frame of mind. He added that to the list of things he had been wrong about.

Thor was made king until Odin awakened. Then Odin delivered a speech about duty to Asgard and a permanent peace and requested volunteers to enforce Loki’s reign in Jotunheim. Many of the volunteers, Loki noticed, were veterans of both Jotun wars. They had a grudge against the realm and were eager to force Odin’s puppet king on it. Which meant they would support and defend Loki regardless of their opinions of him, but also meant they might well oppress Loki’s new subjects when opportunity allowed. The Jotnar would resent Loki’s rule as it was, a foreign-raised runt foisted upon them by their enemy. Loki would have to keep a stern eye on the Asgardian troops. It would be an intricate balancing act, keeping the Aesir from turning on him while serving the Jotnar well enough that they would not sacrifice the use of the Casket for the pleasure of assassinating him. Loki’s unique position put him at the center of an intricate web. He was Asgard’s only candidate for viceroy of Jotunheim, and Jotunheim’s only hope of rebuilding their realm. There was quite literally no other in the Nine Realms who could do what Loki was about to undertake.

By the time there were a full hundred volunteers, Loki realized that he had become so absorbed in strategizing the task ahead of him that he had forgotten to be miserable for at least two minutes. It was a cold comfort, but Loki supposed that in Jotunheim there could be no other kind.

The final volunteer was a surprise. Hogun, the only one of Thor’s little warrior band to step forward. Thor looked quite wounded. He interrupted the proceedings to demand, “Hogun, how can you abandon me?”

Hogun’s gaze moved to Sif, Volstagg and Fandral. “You three, stay with Thor. I go to Jotunheim.”

And so the following morning, Loki in full ceremonial armor and a hundred warriors marched to the Observatory. Sif, Fandral and Volstagg came as well, to bear and guard the Casket. Odin had already fallen into the Odinsleep, and Thor had been sternly instructed about not gallivanting off to pick fights with other realms while he was king, so it fell to Thor’s friends to transport the Casket there and take it back.

Loki set his jaw, and allowed the Bifrost to take him away from the last remnants of the life he had known.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki takes the throne of Jotunheim.

Frost giants were big.

Obviously. That was why they were called _giants._ But it was one thing to sit around in Asgard calling them that, and another to stand looking up at a man who was nearly twice your height. It had been terrifying on Loki’s first trip to this realm, and was no less so this time. The Jotnar dwarfed the Aesir. It was incredible to think that they had defeated such huge creatures.

The Jotnar glared down at the Aesir as they marched into the ruined temple in which they had met with Laufey before. With Loki’s father. It felt like being a child again, surrounded by adults. Angry adults.

Most of the volunteers did not seem to share Loki’s apprehension. They had faced Jotuns before, more than once in some cases, had cut them down and lived to tell the tale.

The cold bothered Loki not at all. He had always had a higher tolerance for cold than most Asgardians - and now he knew why - but Jotunheim had been too cold even for him. Not now. Now the chill was a bracing relief from the oppressive heat of Asgard.

Inside the temple, a frost giant whose lines were angular and very much like Laufey’s - a relative? - gestured to the carved stone seat upon which Laufey had reclined. “Your throne, little king.” His gravelly voice was mocking.

As well it might be, because that throne had been built for a giant and Loki would have to scramble in undignified fashion to sit upon it. Or would had he not forced himself to practice his new ability to summon ice as the Jotnar did. He whispered a spell which dematerialized the soles of his boots, and then willed ice to grow from the frozen ground beneath them, lifting him to his throne.

Once he was seated, in horned helmet and golden armor and green cloak, Aesir guards flanking him, high ranking Jotnar one by one knelt before him, stated their names, and swore allegiance to him. First was the one whose lines resembled Laufey’s. He stood before Loki, their eyes nearly at a level with Loki on this high throne and the Jotun standing on the ground.

“I am Býleistr. Eldest legitimate child of Laufey.” The words were spoken as a challenge. The Aesir tensed. Loki kept himself still and calm.

“Legitimate.”

“You are the spawn of a petty lord he dallied with.”

So not only was Loki a monster, he was a bastard, only half royal monster. And a defective runt, mustn’t forget that. The Norns had been in a nasty mood when they had charted his stars.

“And Laufey _bore_ me. He merely sired you.”

“I see.”

Loki did. He was regarding his brother - his real brother. And as always, his brother was his foremost rival, whether he liked it or not. Standing before him was the one who should have been sitting on this throne, now that Laufey was dead.

Býleistr held his gaze for another long moment before dropping to one knee and putting a fist to his heart. “I vow that I will be faithful to _King Loki,”_ there was the tiniest of hesitations before the title, “will obey his laws and bear my arms in his service.”

Second to swear was a Jotun who introduced himself as Helblindi, High Priest of Jotunheim and Laufey’s youngest child. Also a legitimate offspring, and also borne by Laufey, not merely sired. Helblindi looked at Loki searchingly. Loki did not know if he found what he sought, but he did not seem hostile. Only melancholy.

There followed a dreary procession of frost giants, far too many for Loki to remember their names and ranks and match them to their lines. A few stood out, however, thanks to one striking feature.

“You have horns,” Loki said to the first of these who knelt before him. He did, too, great curving horns growing straight from his head, not from a helmet.

The Jotun’s eyes flickered to Loki’s helmet. “Yes.”

“Why? Most of you do not have them.”

“Perhaps one in ten of us have them.”

“And what does it mean?”

The Jotun looked a little bemused. “That at least one of our parents had them.”

Loki waved a hand to dismiss the Jotun and kept his expression remote, but inwardly he was seething. He had been so proud and gratified that his father (not his father) had bestowed a unique helmet upon him as well as upon Thor, had taken it as a sign that he had some standing with Father despite being the second favorite. Now it seemed a mockery, for the horns growing from some of the Jotnar before him were the precise shape and arrangement of the ones on his helm. It probably seemed incredibly stupid to the Jotnar, wearing fake horns when he couldn’t grow real ones. Loki wanted to yank the thing off on the spot, but that would have looked even worse. 

All of the Jotnar were nearly naked. All of them wore kilts, occasionally dark brown but nearly always green. A few had ornamental bits of green on their shoulders or forearms. This was another unpleasant revelation. Even as a child Loki had nearly always been dressed in green. By adulthood he had grown to like it, especially the way it made his eyes look greener. Now he realized this was another little joke on the All-Father’s part, dressing his Jotun pawn in Jotun green and pretend Jotun horns.

When all the nobility had made their individual oaths, Býleistr ordered the common Jotnar to kneel and swear in unison. There were angry murmurings and shiftings at this, but Býleistr stared them down and they complied. They accepted Býleistr’s authority, doubtless wished he were the one occupying that high stone seat.

With the oaths sworn, Býleistr stepped forward and addressed Sif. She was at the head of those guarding the Casket, a layer of guards three warriors thick. “We have kept our end of the bargain, Asgardian.”

She nodded to Fandral and Volstagg, who cautiously opened the heavy iron box in which they had transported the Casket. “For one day. And we shall be with you for every moment of that.”

Býleistr made no answer, his eyes fastening greedily upon the relic. He lifted it and strode outside at once, ignoring the Aesir who flanked him. The rest of the Jotnar followed him, leaving Loki and his Asgardian guards behind.

_I was so right not to want to be king,_ Loki reflected with a small sour chuckle. Then he rose, summoned ice to take him back to the ground, and followed the rest.

Outside he was forced to summon more ice to elevate him enough that he could see what his half-brother was doing. On Loki’s previous visit he had noticed that the very terrain seemed to be falling apart, breaking down. That seemed to be what Býleistr considered in need of correction. Power flowed from the Casket and immense piles of rubble resolved themselves into mountains, cliffs rose from flat ground, natural bridges formed themselves across caverns.

Forests sprang up on the mountains and plains - forests unlike those of Asgard, forests of thick black trunks and peculiar thorny leaves, but forests. And even as they watched, strange blue animals appeared moving through the trees, creeping through the gloom and eyeing the Jotnar and Aesir warily. As the hours passed and Býleistr wielded the Casket and everyone else watched, the desolate realm began to teem with life. Still dark, still frozen, but _alive._

For a full turning of the planet they did not sleep or eat. Býleistr evidently intended to take full advantage of this chance, the Aesir had to guard the Casket and the Jotnar wanted to watch their realm return to life. They gave great exultant shouts each time a mountain reformed itself from broken piles of rock, each time a new forest blossomed. Loki watched it all, trying to learn the realm that he must now rule.

 

When the day was over and Býleistr had been compelled to relinquish the Casket, Sif, Fandral and Volstagg took their leave of Hogun. “It isn’t too late to change your mind, Hogun,” Sif urged. “Thor needs you, we need you.”

“I shall serve Asgard here,” was all Hogun said.

The only farewell Loki received from his brother’s friends was a hostile glance from each of them. He smiled sweetly in return.

When the Bifrost had taken them away, he glanced at Býleistr. He would have to try to form some sort of détente with his half-brother, but for the moment, asserting his place seemed the wiser course. “Have someone show me to Laufey’s quarters,” he ordered.

Býleistr replied with a stony stare. It was Helblindi who gestured to a servant and repeated the orders. “I hope we may speak after we have both rested, half-brother.”

“Of course. You shall have the first audience, half-brother.” 

The royal chambers were dark, the furniture carved from cold stone. There were tables piled with objects which would bear investigation. And new furniture, scaled for Loki’s size, would have to be found, or created.

But just now, all Loki wanted was sleep. Six of the Aesir had accompanied him to his room, Hogun among them; Loki could not trust that his subjects would not murder him in the night. They unrolled sleeping furs and settled down for the night. Loki found that he needed no coverlets; he kept forgetting that he no longer required warmth.

As he drifted off, Loki worried about Thor.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The history of the romance between the sons of Odin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: corporal punishment.

For years of their adolescence and early manhood, the forbidden attraction between the sons of Odin was confined to quickly averted glances and stolen touches. Everything between them was perfectly brotherly and innocent - except for the feelings underlying it all. They both knew what sinful emotions were growing between them, though they did not speak of it. When they playfully wrestled with each other, when they helped each other don or remove their armor, when occasionally their eyes locked and then they both swiftly looked away, they both knew what fire they played with. 

Neither allowed himself to think of acting upon these feelings. Both hoped they would simply outgrow it in time. But one day Thor came into Loki’s room to pester him while he was trying to study, and they ended up tussling on the floor, and once Thor had Loki pinned down, they found themselves looking at each other and all the playfulness gone.

For a long time neither of them moved or spoke. But finally Thor lowered himself, and touched his lips to Loki’s, and Loki did not turn his head away, and with that it was done.

Loki knew they should stop. But when he finally felt Thor’s powerful body pressed against him and Thor’s mouth on his, he could not have stopped for the Nine Realms. 

At last Loki could run his hands all over those rippling muscles, feeling their hardness under warm skin. Thor nuzzled his neck and Loki closed his eyes as he slipped his hands under Thor’s tunic.

Suddenly the arousal was downright painful and neither of them could wait another moment. By unspoken mutual agreement they pulled each other’s clothes off, and then Thor was turning him over, positioning him on his hands and knees on the floor. For a moment Loki was afraid, but Thor was too impatient for anything that required preparation; he pressed Loki’s thighs together tight around his cock, then reached to wrap his hand around Loki’s. Crazed with need, all Loki could do was gasp for breath and move in time with Thor’s thrusts. Thor’s strong hand, Thor’s prick clamped between his thighs became the entire universe for Loki.

Afterwards, when they were lying on the floor gasping for breath, Loki managed to speak. “We should not have done that.”

Thor reached over, effortlessly pulled him close. Feeling his brother’s strength was thrilling. “Are you sorry?”

“Not one bit.”

After a while, when their breath had slowed and their sweat dried, Thor said, “It does not _feel_ wrong.”

“I know. But it is. We are brothers.”

Thor looked at him with a little frown, obviously searching for words, but when their eyes met they found themselves kissing again instead. And no matter how well Loki knew that this was a sin and an abomination and a crime, he could not feel any of that. They felt so utterly right, molding their bodies together like this.

They moved to the bed, and this time they took it slow. They explored every inch of each other’s bodies, touching and kissing all the places they had thought of and looked at for so long. 

Both of them had had lovers. Princes were besieged with offers the moment their voices cracked for the first time, handsome ones even more so. But nothing in the experience of either brother could compare to this, this utter delirium, this torrential desire that swept all else away. Loki could have spent days just running his fingers over Thor’s golden skin, or letting Thor’s huge hands move over him. But eventually Thor asked, with just the smallest hint of uncertainty, “Loki, will you let me have you?” and Loki could say nothing but, “Oh, _yes.”_

Thor started searching among the various jars and bottles on Loki’s shelves, messing up the arrangement, before Loki stopped him and handed him a bottle of oil he kept to soften his skin. Thor took it and manhandled Loki back to his hands and knees on the bed. Loki resisted just a little, just to feel how strong Thor was as he shoved him down. 

“Have you done this before?” Thor asked as he began to apply the oil.

Loki closed his eyes, trying to relax his muscles. “Receiving? Of course not.” The etiquette of this was firmly established. Rank dictated who was to penetrate and who receive - or it was supposed to, there was always gossip that this man or that had broken the rule and allowed an inferior to mount him.

The man who currently had Loki bent over was the only man in Asgard to whom Loki could grant this without dishonor, even had he wanted it from any other. His elder brother, the crown prince - never mind that their father had not outright declared it yet, it was obvious to all - Thor was the only man in Asgard who outranked him, save the king.

Who Loki was _not_ going to think about right now.

Thor was a little too rough. Loki did not complain, it was too heady and wonderful to have him after wanting him for so long. The overwhelming pleasure was well worth the pain. He felt as if Thor’s prick was splitting him open, filling his entire body. Thor’s powerful hands gripped his hips, held him in place for Thor to pound into, and Loki just moaned and gasped for breath and fisted his hands in the sheets because he couldn’t do anything else.

When he again spilled over Thor’s enveloping hand he thought he was going to pass out.

He didn’t. Thor spilled into him and then collapsed on him. “You’re going to crush me, you oaf,” Loki mumbled, and after a minute Thor did move off him, pulling him to lie half on top of Thor.

“We mustn’t do this again,” Loki said after a time, but he lacked conviction and Thor could see that.

“We aren’t hurting anyone,” Thor pointed out. “And it isn’t as if we could have inbred children.” He tangled his fingers in Loki’s tousled hair. “Perhaps this needs to run its course. Perhaps these feelings only grew stronger from our resistance. If we indulge it for a time….”

“Perhaps,” Loki conceded, but he doubted it. 

They were to repeat these excuses to each other many times over the years. 

For weeks after that, they stole off together whenever they could. No one noticed anything amiss; the brothers had always been close. When Thor clapped Loki on the shoulder and the two of them went off riding or to their chambers, no one guessed at what they would do the moment they were safe from prying eyes. Loki had already learned to hide from Heimdall’s sight; much of his adolescent mischief had been tests to see if Heimdall would see and report him. Now he made good use of his ability.

It could not last, of course. One day Father came upon them in Thor’s room, half-dressed, clasping each other close. Loki had just been moaning his brother’s name as Thor kissed a trail down his chest. Mercifully, they had not actually been coupling when Father found them, but there was no doubt as to what they had been doing.

Father was, naturally, furious. Both brothers were too ashamed to argue; they just stood side by side, hanging their heads as he vented his wrath upon them. After telling them at length that they had brought shame to the house of Odin, he had applied the lash to both of them. Loki actually found it a relief, in a way, to feel the fire on his back; he felt that the pain was purifying him of his sin, relieving him of the guilt he had labored under since he had only furtive wishes to feel guilty about.

Both of them behaved perfectly for some time after, and at length Father forgave them. Both of them were very sure that they would never, ever err again, despite the flickers of desire that still occasionally flashed between them. And it was many years before they did.

But eventually, they went out riding together, just the two of them because Thor’s friends had duties elsewhere, and when they dismounted to dive into a clear cold lake, they found themselves in an embrace and hardly knew how it had happened. As soon as their arms were around each other, all the old passion was rekindled and soon they were coupling right on the bank, covered in mud and not minding. They dove back in after to wash, and then looked at each other with resignation, knowing they would not be able to stop - not anytime soon. There followed another round of furtive meetings, Thor covering Loki’s mouth with his hand to muffle his cries of pleasure, both of them making sure they were seen flirting with others to divert their parents’ suspicions.

Inevitably, their father caught them at it again, and there followed another furious lecture and another flogging, and another few years of resisting their attraction.

And so it went until both brothers were crowned. They would abstain for years, believing they had at last put it all behind them. Then one day they would fall into each other’s arms again and not be able to resist. Or Thor would decide that he could not live without Loki’s touch, so he would get his brother alone, sweep him up in an embrace, and set about seducing him. At first Loki would try to push him away, would tell him they could not do this, but Thor never listened and Loki was never able to hold out for long. On a couple of occasions it was Loki who made the approach, but nearly always it was Thor.

Sometimes guilt would overwhelm them and they would stop before being caught. When it was Loki whose remorse compelled him to end it, he would tell Thor so in a place public enough that Thor could not seduce him into changing his mind, and avoid being alone with Thor for some time after. When it was Thor, he would tell Loki they could no longer do this, and Loki never argued, just swallowed the hurt as he had learned to do from a lifetime of being the less-loved son and went away.

Father caught them sometimes, and each time the penalties were more severe. Sometimes he would separate them for a time, send Loki off to study with the scholars of some other realm or Thor off to fight while Loki stayed in the palace. 

No matter what the brothers told him, Father always gave Loki more of the blame. Loki was the one who lured Thor into sin, never mind how many times Thor confessed that it was far more often the other way around. 

Eventually Father was more resigned than angry if he caught them in an unbrotherly embrace. Like the last time he had caught them, a few years before they were both made kings. They awoke after a passionate night twined in each other’s arms with their father standing beside the bed, regarding them wearily.

“Report to the training yard. Thirty lashes each,” he said in a tired voice. At some point he had stopped even bothering to wield the lash himself.

Neither dared to argue, but even Thor paled. Neither of them had ever endured more than twenty lashes. Both silently began to dress. Loki’s stomach was knotting with dread. 

Odin had begun to leave, but he turned back and gave each of his sons an appraising look. “Thor. You will request forty. You are strong enough to endure it.”

Thor’s eyes widened, but he only set his jaw, determined. Loki thought his legs would give out beneath him. He forced his numb lips to move.

“Father, you cannot give Thor more punishment than me for the same offense.”

He had hoped that Father would relent, drop the number back to thirty, but instead Father gave him a withering look. “Do you wish to receive forty lashes as well?”

Loki forced himself to stand straight. “If that is what Thor is to endure.”

Thor stepped to him, almost put an arm around him before thinking better of it. “Loki, no! I can withstand it-“

“You think me that much weaker than you?” Loki snapped.

Thor turned to Odin. “Father, please. My brother is loyal, he is trying to be brave, but you know I am the stronger. Do not inflict such a penalty on him, it was my fault this time anyhow-“

“Forty. Both of you. Perhaps that will finally teach you.” Father turned his back on them and left. Both stood frozen for a moment before mechanically resuming getting dressed.

“You should not have volunteered for more, Loki.” Thor sounded truly distressed. “You are always scolding me for foolish bravery, and now you do something like this.”

“As if I could endure knowing that you had suffered more than I for this.” 

They had both endured it, and both had spent the next two days in the healing room. And both had been freshly determined not to fail their father in this again. 

Whether they were lovers at the time or not, the brothers were still inseparable. Some found it surprising, given how different the two were. But Thor and Loki, even when exasperated with or disdainful of each other, understood how perfectly complementary their differences were. Thor could sweep anyone up in his enthusiasm; Loki could twist them around with silver words. Thor was brave to a fault and quick to action, Loki cautious and thoughtful. They always planned that when Thor was king (neither had ever really doubted that he would be the one, no matter what their father pretended), Loki would advise him, Loki’s suspicion tempering Thor’s good nature, Loki’s strategy channeling Thor’s strength. 

Each knew the other’s flaws as well as his virtues. Thor knew of Loki’s curiosity, which at times got them into as much trouble as Thor’s courage. He knew of Loki’s talent for lying and mischief. He knew about Loki’s streak of petty malice, having been on its receiving end many times over the centuries. Loki knew of Thor’s recklessness. He knew about Thor’s readiness to resort to his fists or hammer. He knew Thor’s stubbornness. 

He knew that with a little humility, Thor would be a fine king.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor rules in Asgard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those who don't know, the Thing was [a governing assembly](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Thing_%28assembly%29) in old Germanic/Norse cultures.

It was embarrassing, having Mother curtsey when she entered Thor’s chambers. Also sort of silly, since as soon as she straightened, she started to lecture him as if he were a little boy.

King or not, he was still her child. 

“Is this what your father raised you for? To hunt and feast while the Thing rules Asgard? While _they_ perform _your_ duties?”

“I am merely heeding their counsel. Just as you and Loki always said that I should.”

A shadow crossed her face at the mention of his brother’s name, but she was intent on scolding him just now. “Heeding. You are allowing them to dictate to you, their _king_ , how Asgard shall be ruled. Your approval has become a mere formality.”

“Which of their decisions do you dispute, Mother? I shall command that they change it at once.”

“The Thing’s decisions have been sensible thus far. That is not what concerns me! They are doing the task that _you_ were born to do! Their role is to serve you. The welfare of Asgard is _your_ responsibility!”

He turned away from her, trying not to feel like a sullen child. The shameful fact was that the Thing refused to listen to him. As did the generals, and the captain of the guard, and everyone else with any authority. Oh, they would not openly defy him. But whatever he decreed, they oh-so-politely argued with him as if they were humoring a child, and kept on respectfully arguing until he gave in. If he put his foot down, they of course complied, and he could see in their faces the apprehension that he was becoming a tyrant, who would eventually have to be removed for the good of the realm.

It was his trip to Jotunheim that caused the change, Thor knew it. He had thought he was acting for the safety of the realm, that his boldness would prove his worth to Father. Instead he had instigated a war which could have cost far too much in Asgardian gold and Asgardian blood. It had not, because Father had wisely attacked fiercely and swiftly, overwhelming the Jotnar before they could gather their troops or appeal to allies. 

And, of course, Father had had a trump card no one could have guessed in the form of Laufey’s eldest son.

And so Thor cooperated with whatever the Thing and the generals wanted, and spent most of his time riding, hunting and feasting with Sif, Fandral and Volstagg. 

Oddly, losing the two least cheerful members of their band had made their revelry markedly less joyous.

Thor tried to make his tone sound reasonable. “Mother, it was only weeks ago that I dragged us into war. I must show Asgard that I am willing to listen to cooler heads now.”

“You are showing Asgard that you are willing to carouse while others attend to your duties!”

Abruptly she quieted. She came to stand before him, brushing his hair back from his face. Her eyes searched his face, concerned.

“Perhaps you are right,” she conceded at last. “It may be too soon after that error for you to assert yourself.” She sighed. “I always thought you would have Loki’s counsel when this time came.”

Thor turned to look out the window. He could see the Observatory gleaming in the afternoon sunlight. “So did I,” he admitted.

She came to stand beside him, taking his arm. “I miss him so,” she whispered after a time.

“I too.”

“I failed him. He came to me, days after your father told him, and he looked so strange in his new form, and I could not….” Her voice broke.

Thor at once put his arms around her, closing his eyes for a moment to breathe in the familiar honeysuckle scent of her hair. After a moment he said, “He is no longer our Loki.”

She pushed back to meet his eyes, indignant. “You know that is not true.”

“Mother, he is a _Jotun!”_

“He’s your brother!”

The words twisted within him. “How can his loyalties be with us now?”

“And where should they be? With the race he was taught to see as his enemy? That tried to kill him because he was small for a giant? That is now forced by their enemy to accept him as their king?”

For weeks Thor had been pushing these thoughts out of his mind. “If they harm him, I will slay every one of them.”

“That will do him little good. Or us.”

The fear for Loki which Thor had been refusing to allow himself to feel gripped him now. He looked to the Observatory again. “Then what can I do?”

A king should not feel this helpless.

Mother seemed to be searching for an answer. At length she said, “Remember that he is your brother.”

He sighed and held her close. “I will, Mother.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki grants his half-brother an audience and sets to work on his palace.

When Loki granted Helblindi his audience the day after his arrival, the first thing Loki asked about was the custom of leaving defective infants in temples. He had clung to a slender hope that there had actually been some less reprehensible reason he had been abandoned there, but Helblindi, High Priest of Jotunheim, dashed that hope.

“It has always been our custom,” Loki’s half-brother explained serenely. “Why should parents be burdened with rearing a child who will never be able to fend for itself?” Only then did he seem to realize that he was speaking to such a child, and had the grace to look mildly embarrassed.

“Why indeed. Do parents never choose to rear children who are less than perfect?”

A shrug. “Some do. And some who cannot have children of their own are willing to settle for children who are only slightly malformed. That is why the children are left in the nearest temple, to the mercy of the Norns, rather than killed outright.”

“So that they may be adopted, if someone wishes to take them?”

“Yes, as was your good fortune.”

As unhappy as Loki was, he supposed he couldn’t argue with that. He had been raised a prince with the best mother and brother anyone could hope for. And was now rejected by everyone in two realms and expected to carry out an impossible task with the help of people who would happily slay him. “Henceforth, any child left in a temple who is not claimed within a day shall be brought to the palace and raised here. It is my command.” His first command. The “palace” was a ruin, but Loki would see to that before long. Even the throne room, where Loki had chosen to receive Helblindi, was a shambles; the impossibly high walls broken, filthy ice uneven upon the floor. Loki wore full ceremonial armor, including, after some internal debate, his helmet. He certainly did not need to be kept warm in his new form, and it was somewhat awkward with Helblindi wearing only his kilt and his green armbands, but Loki had been reared an Asgardian prince and would conduct himself accordingly.

Now Helblindi stared. “You wish to fill your court with cripples and midgets?”

“The kings of Midgard do that. Or used to; who knows what they do nowadays. Some of the afflicted I may be able to cure with seiðr, though I have little gift for healing. As for midgets like myself, if they are comely, then with proper instruction they may be useful in forming alliances with other realms.”

The other nodded, comprehending. “You will marry them to foreign nobles.”

“When feasible, yes.” Loki actually hoped he might hew a place of their own for the cast-offs, but best to let that plan develop more slowly.

“You said - you are a sorcerer?”

Loki nodded, bracing himself for the taunts out of habit, only to realize that a species which did not have men and women could not have a concept of “ergi”. 

“And you are willing to use this gift for us?”

Loki was about to reply with an automatic “of course”, but the intentness of Helblindi’s gaze made him stop to consider his answer. He needed some benefit to offer his new subjects aside from that of not being further trampled by Asgard. “Have you many sorcerers here?”

“Very few.”

“Then let us discuss how my seiðr may be useful on Jotunheim.”

Helblindi’s huge blue hands curled into fists, and Loki waited, outwardly calm. “What do you know of the Casket?” the giant asked at last.

“That it was the source of the Jotnar’s power. That your people….” Loki stopped himself. “That Laufey used it to take an army to Midgard, long ago, and intended with it to make Midgard as cold as Jotunheim.”

“It is not only a weapon. Without it, Jotunheim has been slowly dying. The very ground beneath us splinters away and drifts into the Void bit by bit, our forests have died and our seas grown barren….” Helblindi stopped, gritting his teeth.

_Thank you, Father, for granting me a broken heap of ice to be king over. Clearly you love me as much as your real son._ Aloud Loki asked, “Will having the Casket for one day a year reverse the deterioration?”

“It will help. Jotunheim will not be as once it was, but there will be more life, more game. More food. Fewer avalanches.”

“Avalanches.” Lovely. “How can my magic help?”

“Chiefly, the rock which makes up most of our world has been crumbling since the Casket was taken from us. Our few sorcerers have fused the rock and made it stable, but it always crumbles again.”

“Identify the areas most in need of such shoring up and I shall travel to them as soon as possible.” Loki spoke as a prince - no, a king - to his councillors, but then recalled that Helblindi was of royal blood as well (and his right side of the blanket), not to be ordered about in such peremptory fashion. “Excuse me. I should have first asked, are you willing to grant me your counsel and aid? I will leave you in peace if you are not, so long as you do not act against me.”

“It is my duty to my people. I tried to aid my father and meant to aid my brother.” And didn’t _that_ sound familiar. “Of course I will aid my half-brother.”

Loki nodded curtly. He would grant Helblindi some sort of honor for the service later, when he had a better idea of what sort would be expected here. “Tell me of my… of Laufey.”

Helblindi smiled sadly. “He will not be missed.”

“Will he not?”

“His ambition to seize another realm destroyed our own. His stubborn refusal to retreat when it became clear we could not win Midgard from the Aesir cost us the Casket. His proud refusal to negotiate a truce with the All-Father forced his subjects to live in misery ever since the war.”

Ambition, stubbornness, pride. _Thor._ Loki was genuinely afraid for him. What harm might Thor do to himself, to Asgard, without Loki to temper him?

Loki still believed he would have been of more use to Asgard as Thor’s advisor. He worried about his not-brother whenever he thought of him, trying to rule Asgard without either Father or Loki to help him. Thor’s hot blood would get the better of him and he would drag Asgard into another war. Or he would not be sufficiently suspicious of the Thing or the generals to see when they were trying to manipulate him. 

At least when Loki manipulated Thor, he did it for the good of Asgard. Usually.

Odin was asleep. Loki must rule Jotunheim. Thor must rule Asgard. If either of them failed Father would not be able to repair matters until he woke, and perhaps not even then if they failed badly enough. Now foiling Thor’s coronation and sneaking off to Jotunheim seemed like childish sport. Abruptly Loki wondered if, when he had arranged to stop Thor from being made king, he had without knowing it been trying to stave off this day. The day when Father could not fix everything for them. 

The day when they both had to truly grow up and stand on their own. Without even each other.

Loki pushed these morbid thoughts away and looked at Helblindi. “And our brother? Býleistr?”

“Býleistr will do what is best for Jotunheim.” Helblindi spoke with quiet confidence.

“And if he thinks that assassinating me will be best?”

“The reprisals from Asgard would be brutal. Every Jotun knows this. You are safer than you seem to imagine.”

Loki could not find this particularly comforting. “What sort of man is Býleistr?”

“Do not make an enemy of him.” Loki lifted an eyebrow, and Helblindi amended, “More than can be helped.”

“And what would make an enemy of him?”

“Harming Jotunheim. Or our people.”

“I have no wish to keep the common Jotnar in misery. My chief duty is to see to it that Jotunheim does not make war on other realms again. Make that list for me and I shall do what is in my ability. Now if you will excuse me, I must see those who maintain this palace.”

Helblindi bowed and began to turn, then stopped. “Half-brother. You did not wish to come here and Jotunheim does not wish you here, but I have read the signs. I believe that through you Jotunheim’s fortunes will rise, though how is hidden from me.”

That might be flattering, except that Jotunheim’s fortunes could hardly grow worse. “The Norns grant it may be so.”

Loki had a dozen Aesir guards present when he spoke to the palace servants, Hogun among them. The disrespect the servants in Asgard had shown him, easily remedied with a simple illusion, was as naught compared to the glowering hostility he received here. He ordered that the bed and chairs currently in Laufey’s rooms be removed and replaced with ones more suited to his size. The chief steward, a hulking sparsely-lined Jotun named Myrkrida, was arguing with Loki’s instructions, Loki was sure only for the purpose of defying the bastard runt-king. Loki was wondering how much insolence from servants was required before inflicting his warriors upon them when Býleistr appeared in the doorway.

“We must indulge our little king, Myrkrida,” Býleistr said, mockery evident in his gravelly voice. Loki even thought he detected the slightest signs of a smirk around the corners of the giant’s lips. “No doubt some of the furniture in the nursery will be of the correct size.”

Pleased by that interpretation, the servants departed with haste. Excellent; Loki had left the realm where he had been tauntingly compared to a woman and entered one where he was tauntingly compared to a child. 

Loki tilted his head to look up at Býleistr. “Do you seek a boon from me, half-brother?” he asked, too cordially. 

Býleistr looked down at him. Suddenly one corner of his mouth twisted.

“You are half a brother, indeed,” he sneered.

Loki had not been a younger brother for a thousand years for nothing. “And you half a wit, Býleistr.”

Býleistr glared at him for a second and left. He would require dealing with, sooner or later. Loki was resigned to it. 

“I must tour the palace,” he told the Aesir. “Accompany me.”

With that he set off, ignoring the Jotnar who stared at him as he passed. In each room he touched the cold stone walls and if the stone was weak, sent his seiðr into it to strengthen it. Many walls had already crumbled; beings impervious to cold considered such repairs a low priority, and in any case most of the rooms had vast glassless windows, open to the snow and wind. Loki used a force field to lift the rubble up, bit by bit, and seiðr to fuse it back into a solid wall. His guards squirmed a bit as they watched. The Aesir had ever been wary of magic save for that wielded by the All-Father. Only Hogun, more used to Loki and his power, remained unperturbed.

Those Jotun courtiers and servants who happened to be nearby stopped and stared when they saw what Loki was doing. Every last one of them abandoned whatever they had been doing to follow him as he progressed through the palace, the public rooms first and then asking for entry at each of the private quarters, rebuilding every wall he found that needed it. Halfway through the task he came upon his half-brothers. He gave them only a nod as he continued his work, and they joined the procession, watching him without comment.

Near Laufey’s chambers, now Loki’s, he found several large rooms that had been used for storage. He ordered that the rooms be emptied of what they still held, which wasn’t much, and once he had repaired their walls, he conjured sheets of clear ice to seal the windows. That would do until he contrived some way of making glass here. “These rooms shall be the Aesir barracks,” he informed Hogun. “As soon as I can get the materials I shall create sources for heat and light such as we have on Asgard.”

Well, not “we” any longer. And who knew how he would get the materials on this desolate realm, but he would figure out something. 

This announcement met with great approval from the Asgardians. Loki wondered sourly how long it would be before they forgot.

The work had taken nearly the entire day. Loki was exhausted. He looked at Myrkrida. “Send a meal to my chambers. And tomorrow, I shall expect to see all of the local nobles in the throne room at noon. See to it they all hear. Hogun, I will require the full complement of Aesir warriors in attendance.”

With that Loki headed for his rooms. Behind him he could hear the murmuring of gravelly Jotun voices.

He had made an impression. It wasn’t a bad start.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The idea that Jotunheim is literally falling apart without the Casket is canon, from [The Art of Thor](http://mosellegreen.tumblr.com/post/49753783060/exploringmcuasgard-has-gotten-me-more-interested). So when people condemn Loki for trying to kill all the frost giants quickly but give Odin a free pass, bear in mind that Odin had already condemned the Jotnar to a slow death.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki strengthens his position in Jotunheim.

Many of Loki’s earliest memories were of his father instructing him and his brother about what he had learned from his years as a warlord. Respect the local customs where possible. So long as they are obedient, do not oppress the common people. Choose a catspaw to perform the atrocities with which you must begin. Be cruel at first and then kind.

In adulthood Loki had wondered at the purpose of such lessons. Father had given Thor little encouragement to expand Asgard’s power through more conquest. 

Now, all was clear.

Loki had deliberately not explained why he was summoning all of Glæsisvellir’s nobility to the palace. He dearly hoped that they half expected to be slaughtered like sheep. Instead they came to find a feast laid out for them such as Jotunheim had not seen in centuries, courtesy of the dense forests raised by the Casket. Besides the large boarlike animals which seemed to be a favorite here, there were peculiar fruits, sharply sweet, and smaller game as well.

The first thing Loki learned at that feast was that frost giants did not always simply eat their meat raw. Oh, no. Sometimes they froze it and crunched it between their teeth. Loki tried it and discovered it was surprisingly good. That he caught a couple of the Asgardian warriors watching him in horror was only a fringe benefit.

The rest of what he learned was which of the nobles he needed to worry about, and which was vicious enough and mercenary enough to be his catspaw. Accordingly, towards evening he announced that he was about to travel to the most distressed cities of the realm to aid them with his seiðr. In his absence, the lord Thrivaldi, whose concern for the welfare of his people was evident, would govern Glæsisvellir.

Afterwards, Loki took Thrivaldi aside and confided in him that he was particularly doubtful about the loyalties of certain local lords, and named those lords to him, and asked Thrivaldi to keep a particular eye on them.

Loki had been pondering how to prevent Býleistr from interfering with his plans for Thrivaldi, but to his surprise, Býleistr solved the problem for him by announcing that he would accompany the “little king” on his travels. Loki wondered if Býleistr meant to assassinate him. Or perhaps step on him.

Loki took fifty of the Aesir with him, leaving the other half to occupy the capital. Hogun elected to travel with him. Hogun was as dour as usual, plodding and deliberate in his duties. Loki had formed a theory that he had volunteered because Thor still would not like for his little brother to be murdered, even if that little brother had been inconsiderate enough to turn into a frost giant.

Every night Loki filled a silver bowl with clean water and spent an hour scrying. The spell, a simple one for him, allowed him to see almost any part of the realm. It was not useful for long distances - he could only scry the realm he was in - but it allowed him to have some idea of what was transpiring around Jotunheim. He also learned that the cities of Utgard and Gastropnir between them had all the materials he needed to create the braziers which Asgardians used to heat and light their homes, as well as the ore required to make glass, all there for the mining. Loki himself was finding that the dim light of Jotunheim was more pleasant to him now. Bright light was unpleasant to his Jotun form. 

Strengthening the crumbling rock of Jotunheim was not so exhausting as Loki had anticipated. He wondered vaguely at this anomaly but only took note when, in Utgard, he was presented with a small herd of imperfect little frost giants, ranging from infants to half-grown children almost as tall as himself. 

He could do nothing for his fellow midgets except plan to take them with him. Some of the others, however, he could help. He had never had much in the way of healing magic, but he summoned what he could and channeled it into a blind Jotun child’s eyes in hope of making the child see, at least imperfectly.

The force of the seiðr which flowed through him almost knocked him over. And by the time Loki’s head cleared, the child was looking at him, red eyes focusing on his face.

With excitement, Loki realized that his magic was growing stronger in his native realm. He was able to heal many of the unwanted children who had been brought to him, and once he had, their parents often wanted them back. Loki was dubious about how happy those homes would be, but at least there was a chance for those children.

After several days of travel, while in the city of Thrymheim (the name literally meant “thunder-home”, which amused Loki greatly), a local lord called Fornjot tried to kill him. Even as Loki was conjuring a blade of ice to fight with, even as Hogun and half a dozen other Asgardians were rushing towards him, Býleistr reached Loki first - and felled Fornjot with a mighty blow of his huge fist. For a moment the Aesir thought that Býleistr was joining the attack on Loki, not thwarting it; Loki had to throw up a sheet of ice to stop them before they could kill his half-brother. _That_ would cause him no end of trouble.

Býleistr gave Loki an inscrutable look, hauled Fornjot to his feet, and dragged him to the balcony of the city’s castle, where nearly all the population could have a view.

Perhaps Father would have said Loki should seize control of this moment, but Loki’s instincts said otherwise. Besides, he wanted to see what Býleistr would do.

What Býleistr did was, in view of the entire city, tell the Jotnar what Fornjot had done and remind them all of the horrors Asgard would visit upon Jotunheim if King Loki were harmed. When he had all of them thoroughly indignant at what they would have suffered for Fornjot’s personal vengeance, Býleistr slew him with a blade of ice and tossed his body to the ground far below.

It was some time before Loki was threatened again.

He scried Thrivaldi’s activities nightly. It was not pleasant, but the Jotun was acting just as Loki had anticipated. By the time Loki returned to Glæsisvellir, Thrivaldi had found pretexts for executing or banishing every lord who had posed a credible threat to Loki. He also had disposed of a handful of commoners, which troubled Loki even though he had expected that as well. Loki promptly had Thrivaldi arrested, held a very public trial to make sure that all Jotunheim heard of the Jotun’s atrocities, and publicly executed him with his own hands. (Here he took a cue from his half-brother and performed the deed on the palace balcony with blades of ice, while the entire city watched from below and cheered.)

Ridding Glæsisvellir of the scourge known as Thrivaldi increased Loki’s popularity considerably. He quieted his conscience about the necessary evil of a catspaw by genuinely benefiting his subjects. Any Jotun who required healing had it for the asking by simply presenting himself at the palace, or wherever Loki happened to be traveling in the realm. He traveled often, partly to learn more of his subjects, chiefly to continue his work of solidifying Jotun stone. For the most part, he allowed the local lords to continue ruling as they had before, interfering only if he had reason to suspect plans to dethrone and usurp him. Aside from more food and decreased fear of injuries and landslides, most of the Jotnar’s lives were unchanged by Loki’s rule. And that, any prince knew, was how to secure one’s power.

His father had taught him well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Most of Odin's remembered advice in this chapter is adapted from Machiavelli's _The Prince_.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor and Frigga visit Loki on Jotunheim.

When Odin awakened all Asgard, including Thor, breathed a sigh of relief. Thor worried that Father would be as exasperated as Mother had been that Thor had left all matters of state to the Thing, but Father seemed content with him. Thor was packed off for a few weeks to a remote village which was being plagued by bilgesnipe and all was well. The simple, straightforward work of slaying bilgesnipe was a relief to him and kept him busy enough that he did not think constantly of the empty space at his side which his brother had always filled. 

He was not to be permitted to forget forever. Sooner than seemed possible it was time for the Casket’s annual visit to Jotunheim, and Mother announced that she was going with it. Father argued, of course. No king wanted his queen visiting a hostile enemy realm. Mother coolly stated that if he was that worried, she would take with her Asgard’s finest warrior - her son. Father scrutinized Thor for a moment before agreeing.

Thor would rather never have seen Jotunheim again, but he dared not argue with Mother. 

 

Though he had seen his brother’s new form in the weapons vault and at his coronation, Thor couldn’t stop staring at Loki. Loki didn’t look like the other frost giants Thor had seen; he was not only smaller, but dainty by comparison, with his finely drawn features. Seeing the strange coloring on that familiar face as it moved through its familiar expressions was disorienting. Thor felt it anew every time those ruby eyes flickered to him.

Loki wore the same bronze ceremonial armor and green cloak he always had. At first Thor thought that he had fashioned a new helm, one which did not cover his hair. Then he realized it was not a helmet.

When he caught Thor staring at his new horns, Loki lifted an eyebrow in a look of challenge Thor recognized very well. “Are you now worried that little wings will grow out of _your_ head?”

Thor was laughing before he knew it. This was the brother he remembered, sharp-tongued and unafraid to challenge even the mighty Thor. The smug look on Loki’s face was familiar too.

For the first time, Thor felt he might still have a brother.

 

Mother spent at least the first hour they were there hugging Loki and crying. She kept apologizing for not realizing that Loki was “still her little boy” ( _mothers_ ) even if he was a frost giant, and Loki kept telling her it was all right, even though his strange ruby eyes were shimmering. 

Thor couldn’t believe that it didn’t make a difference. Jotnar and Aesir had been killing each other for thousands of years. Being raised as one and learning that he was the other had to have changed Loki.

But, Thor conceded, he was still _Loki_. So he kept his promise to Mother and, when she let go of him for a moment, went over and put his hand on the side of Loki’s neck as he had used to and said, “It is good to see you again… brother.”

He knew that the words and gesture were awkward. He had been assured that contact with the Jotnar did not always cause frostbite; they had to _want_ to freeze you, and apparently could only do it through their hands. Still he braced himself for the contact.

The skin of Loki’s neck was cool. Not cold, cool. Pleasantly so, even, despite the sardonic way those red eyes were regarding him.

 

Jotunheim was much changed. The palace and the temple had been rebuilt - by Loki’s own magic. There were peculiar dark forests teeming with life. The Jotnar were still not friendly, but they accepted the presence of Aesir with resignation.

They were introduced to two hulking frost giants - Loki’s half-brothers. His real brothers. Both were grimly cordial.

“What about your real mother?” Thor asked, then wished he hadn’t as Mother and Loki both glared at him.

“The woman who rocked me to sleep when I was small is my real mother,” Loki retorted, and Mother smiled warmly at him. “The Jotun who bore me and let Laufey abandon me in the temple died centuries ago. Farbauti.”

This long-ago abandonment seemed much on Loki’s mind. Not that he said anything, but the palace included an orphanage of afflicted Jotun children, some lame or sickly, some diminutive for their kind as Loki was. Loki had never seemed to have a particularly tender heart, barring a few incidents scattered over the centuries. Thor supposed he felt these children shared a grievance with him. 

 

When Loki was forced to leave them for a time to attend to his duties, Thor drew him aside, hoping he was quiet enough that no one else would hear him. “Loki… are you all right here?”

“It is my native realm and I am king here. How could I not be all right?” The words were mocking and Thor was not appeased.

“You’re surrounded by monsters!”

“They are not monsters, Thor. They’re just people.”

Thor found himself grinning. “To you, that isn’t much of an improvement. You’ve never liked people.”

“No, I haven’t.” And there was Loki’s old impish grin. He turned with a swirl of green cape. “I have work to do. Don’t kill any of my subjects."

 

Chambers were prepared for Thor and Frigga, chilly despite the braziers set throughout the room but warmer than most of the palace. The obligatory feast was held, with Thor and Frigga the only ones eating cooked meat. Loki had acquired a habit of taking a chunk of raw meat, freezing it, and crunching at it. Thor, who did not consider meat edible until the edges were black and crispy, found the sight even more revolting than Loki’s rare meats of old, but Mother only teased Loki good-naturedly about his table manners.

“You really do not need to be warm?” Frigga asked; even right beside the fire Loki had ordered lit, she was yet bundled in furs.

“Not in this form, no. It seems strange that cold ever bothered me at all.”

“You were always kicking your blankets off when you were a baby,” Frigga remembered. “No matter how many times we wrapped you back up. I always feared you would catch your death of cold.”

“Father should have told you that you needn’t have worried about that.” At Mother’s expression, Loki put a soothing hand on her arm - not touching her bare hand with his icy fingers, Thor noticed. “Mother, was the fact of my adoption why you were never as angry as Father was at… Thor and me?”

They all knew to what he referred. She clasped his hand. The contact seemed to startle him. “Yes. It made me think we should tell you both the truth, rather than make you live with that guilt.”

Loki’s mouth twisted. “Only the truth turned out to be even worse.”

Mother shook her head. “It isn’t, Loki. Do not think that.”

Loki pulled his hand away and found some excuse to change the subject. Thor was relieved. He had heard rumors, over the years, about the nature of frost giants. All those rumors, and many more, had been revived in the wake of last year’s revelation that Asgard’s younger prince was actually a Jotun. Thor did not wish to think of it too hard. He tried not to look at the Jotnar all around him lest he inadvertently learn more than he cared to know. He was thankful that Loki still dressed in Asgardian fashion, covering himself from neck to toe.

 

After the feast, the three of them stayed up late talking. Well, mostly Mother and Loki talked and Thor listened. They were almost back to their old ease with each other. Thor had always thought that Loki was just a little bit Mother’s favorite. Not the way Thor was Father’s; his mother adored him and he never doubted that. But she fussed a bit more over Loki, perhaps because she felt he needed it, being the less favored son of their father. And now they were together again, both blossoming in each other’s presence.

But eventually Mother’s weariness became so evident that Loki playfully ordered her to bed. She cooperatively rose, saying, “I should give the two of you a bit of time together.” Thor had intended to retire whenever Mother did, but she had quite deftly - and, he was certain, quite purposely - made that impossible, so he kissed her good night and when she was gone, sat looking at Loki, trying to find the brother he had known.

It was Loki who broke the silence. “Heimdall tells you what transpires here, but I have had no news of Asgard. Tell me of the first reign of King Thor.”

“There is little to tell. By that time, the war was finished and all was quiet.”

It wasn’t like Thor to be so evasive with Loki, but things had changed. He could see Loki noting this, and weighing possible questions.

Frost giant and king of Jotunheim, Loki had nevertheless changed very little.

“Was Father pleased with you?” Loki asked at last.

“He seemed so.” That had surprised Thor, after all Mother’s lectures about shirking his duties. He had expected a dressing-down at the least when Father awoke. Father really _had_ seemed content, his smile warm. Thor had been too relieved to be surprised at the time, but now that he thought of it, it was odd. Thor had been born for the purpose of succeeding Odin to the throne, had been raised to do it. Why was his father content that Thor had let himself be no more than a figurehead? Unless, of course, Father had been worried that the Thing and the court and the generals would become accustomed to Thor’s ways and then have to readjust-

“What is it?” Loki asked softly.

Thor realized that his amazement must have shown on his face. He wanted to unburden himself to Loki at once, as he had done thousands of times before, but the alien blue skin and red eyes stopped him. Perhaps his suspicion was right and Father had intended his failure, the better to cling to his own power, but if so, Thor could hardly confide in the monarch of an enemy realm. Even if that monarch was his brother.

Thor was going to have to deal with this without Loki.

Little brothers, it seemed, were more useful than he had assumed before he had lost his.

Thor found a relatively safe answer - one that Loki could doubtless guess at on his own. “When I dragged us all to Jotunheim… it cost me a great deal of trust. I felt that the Thing and the generals were watching me carefully.”

Loki looked sympathetic at that. Had Thor not known better, he would have thought Loki’s expression was even a little guilty. “But that can be remedied. All you need do is demonstrate that you have outgrown your recklessness.”

“Oh, is that all.” But already Thor was considering what opportunities to do so might be found, and what would be the best demonstration.

“I have no doubt you will succeed. If I - a bastard runt raised by an enemy king - can rule Jotunheim, you should have no trouble ruling Asgard.”

It was true. His troubles were naught compared to Loki’s, and he had crumbled before them. This would have to stop. It was true that not having Loki’s keen mind to aid him was a loss, but that was no excuse. There _was_ no excuse.

“Do they dislike you so much here?”

“Why would they not? To them I am an Asgardian who happens to have blue skin.”

And red eyes. And _horns._ “But you have done well. The realm is in far better shape than it was the last I was here.”

“That is partly because of the Casket. It brings life to Jotunheim.”

“But you have done a great deal.”

Loki smiled a little, pleased.

“Are the Jotnar not grateful?”

“Some are. Others - well, I believe I am making progress in winning them over. It has been months since the last assassination attempt.”

Thor sat bolt upright. “Someone has tried to assassinate you? Who? I will kill them.”

Loki looked at him for a moment before smiling. “I am most gratified to hear it, Thor, but what makes you imagine I allowed them to live? Indeed, two of my would-be assassins were thwarted and slain by the rival claimant to my throne.”

“By-“

“My half-brother Býleistr. Rightful king of Jotunheim.”

“But he is loyal to you?”

“He is loyal to his people. So long as I rule, Asgard will be lenient with Jotunheim. Were I to die, there is no obvious substitute for me. The All-Father might never let the Casket be brought here again. It is likely that the reprisals from Asgard would be brutal, and not confined to the guilty. I am Jotunheim’s defense against Asgard.” He smiled. “And Asgard’s defense against Jotunheim. I halt any movements in the direction of Jotunheim arming itself. Makes me feel quite important, really.”

“And you thought you’d be stuck being my little brother all your life.” 

Thor had intended the words to be congratulatory, but all cheer fled Loki’s face. “I would give anything to have back my old place in your shadow.” He rose and spoke formally. “I bid you good night.”

Thor let him go. He had far too many things to think about.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor comes to the King of Jotunheim with a request.

Loki waited to hear from his foster father. And waited. 

He thought perhaps that hearing nothing was itself the best compliment. He was doing his assigned task so well the All-Father had no need to come to rebuke him. Still.

Thankfully, he had little time to dwell on such thoughts. Navigating the treacherous waters of keeping the Aesir warriors and the Jotnar in a state of truce was arduous and never ending, the more so because he had to do so without making either side want to kill him. Or not want to more than they did to begin with. As he had anticipated, there were incidents of Asgardians harassing Jotuns beyond the point that Loki could ignore. Loki saw no way around making an example of them, and there was no Asgardian who could serve as a catspaw - Hogun was the only one who did not believe the Aesir should be allowed to casually harm the Jotnar, and Loki was not unscrupulous enough to turn on his former shield-brother - so public floggings ordered by Loki were the usual recourse, with the Jotnar reassured that their unwanted king would at least protect them from worse oppression and the Aesir furious that a frost giant was permitted to punish them. Hogun was one of the few who helped Loki in this matter. Many times he stopped an Asgardian attack on a Jotun before it got underway, and he reminded his fellows often that defending Loki’s rule was the will of the All-Father.

Loki’s half-brothers gave their counsel freely. He sensed no affection from either; they acted out of concern for their realm. Býleistr had indeed cast aside all selfish ambition. He supported a usurper on his own rightful throne for the good of his people.

Not that he didn’t hate Loki and want the throne for himself. Loki knew he did.

Most of the Jotnar more or less accepted Loki by now. Through his seiðr, Asgard’s new leniency, and the annual use of the Casket, their lives were made more tolerable. In light of that, his stature, his connection with Asgard, and his dubious claim to the throne all paled in significance. 

Loki was unhappy, but he seldom had the leisure to realize it.

He had been on the Jotun throne for nearly three years when the Bifrost delivered Thor to the palace grounds. The thunderer came alone, typically arrogant. The Aesir who happened to be nearby - Hogun was not among them - immediately came to his side and conducted him to Loki’s study.

“I need your help,” Thor said the moment he stepped through the door.

Loki was tempted to wax sarcastic about Thor’s abrupt manners, but his foster brother’s expression told him this was too serious. “Leave us,” he ordered, and the attending Asgardian warriors and Jotun servants as well as the two Jotun nobles he had been consulting with obeyed.

Once they were alone, Loki rose and poured wine for Thor. “This must be important if the All-Father is willing to let you take me from my duties.”

Thor made a face at the overly sweet taste of the wine, brewed from the strange dense fruits of Jotunheim. “Father is asleep,” he admitted.

“Already?”

“He was ill - not gravely so, but he needed the Odinsleep to recover.”

“Then you are king.” Loki knew that properly, he should bow, or even kneel. Really, he should have done that the moment Thor entered, as a vassal king to the heir of his liege lord, just as he had when Thor and Frigga had visited him two years before. Mother had pulled him up from his bow and embraced him, horns and cold blue skin and all.

But he did not. Bowing to his parents was one thing. If his brother wanted that tribute from him, he could damned well demand it.

Thor did not seem to notice the omission. “I _was_ king. I handed Gungnir to Mother when this happened.”

“When what happened?”

Thor set his jaw, grim. “My friends - Sif, Fandral, Volstagg - they’ve been taken.”

“By whom?”

“I know not. Groa says that it must be a powerful mage.” Groa was one of Asgard’s court sorceresses. “She says they have been taken to Niflheim where they are trapped until someone retrieves them.”

“And you want me to leave my kingdom and help you rescue them.”

“You, and Hogun. I need the help of a sorcerer who is also a warrior. It will be a dangerous and arduous journey. And the only sorcerer I trust who could endure its rigors is you.”

Loki strolled back to his chair. He poured himself more of the sweet wine - he had acquired a taste for it since coming here - and took a leisurely swallow. He was going to savor this moment. Already he could see half a dozen possible outcomes, and all could be used for his own advantage.

“No,” Loki said.

The shock on Thor’s face really was priceless. “What?”

“I said ‘no’. I do not have a loyal relative who can be trusted to occupy my throne while I go a-questing. I cannot leave Jotunheim.”

“You can leave it for a week or so. Mother has promised to send extra troops to hold the capital.”

“Lovely. More diminutive bullies to plague my subjects.”

“They are-“ Thor stopped himself, fuming. Loki waited, wondering if they were going to quarrel about the right of Asgardians to harm frost giants, but thankfully Thor returned to the vital issue. “If you have a wiser request then make it and we shall provide what you need - within reason. But you must help me. It is your duty!”

“It is my duty to follow the All-Father’s command. And he commanded me to govern this realm so that it does not terrorize the others as it did before.”

That actually stumped Thor for a moment. “And what of your duty to me as your brother? And to our friends?”

“We are not brothers,” Loki reminded him wearily. “And they are _your_ friends. Who never liked me even before they found out I was a Jotun. Who were glad to see the back of me. What is it to me if some sorcerer has dragged them off to Niflheim?”

Thor clearly had no idea how to respond to this. “Do you care nothing for them? They who were your shield-brothers?”

“Would any of them go to Niflheim to rescue _me?”_

“They would if I asked them,” Thor said promptly.

“And if you did not?” 

Thor did not answer.

“Thor, there are other sorcerers. Ones who do not have realms to rule.”

“It is _you_ I need, Loki. Even Mother thinks so.”

“Mother?”

“She read the signs after they were taken. She said that you are the one who can rescue them - with my aid.”

Hm. That did make a difference. If Mother wanted Loki to go - she was usually right in her divinations, and her blessing would carry weight when the All-Father demanded to know why Loki had left his post.

The nobles could govern Jotunheim without him for a while. Doubtless some of them would try to plot in his absence and it would be a nuisance to put a stop to it when he returned, but nothing he couldn’t handle. Extra troops from Asgard, if carefully chosen, should prevent outright revolt, and if Hogun were to oversee them-

Thor broke into his calculations. “Loki - I am king of Asgard until Father awakens. Name your price.”

Loki stared. Then recovered himself. “You said you handed Gungnir to Mother. You are not king now.”

“You know she will not refuse anything we _both_ ask of her. She told me to offer you a boon for your help.”

“You might have started with that.” An idea was taking hold of Loki, one that almost frightened him with its potential. Father would be annoyed, but better to beg forgiveness than ask permission. By the time Father awakened it would be done. “Name it, you say?”

“I’m sure you know what things would be outside my power to grant.”

“I do indeed. Very well.” Loki leaned back in his chair, picking up his goblet and swirling its contents idly. “Soon the Casket is to make its annual visit. I want it here for an entire week, not just a single day.”

“I can’t.”

“That is my price. Pay it or find another sorcerer.”

“I told you-“

“Thor. Do you imagine I want to use it to make war on other realms? To invade Midgard, perhaps?” Loki shook his head and rose, setting his goblet down. “Come with me. I will show you what we have been using the Casket for.”

Loki could not conceal his pride as he took Thor along the path they had taken from the Bifrost site to the ruined temple when they had made their disastrous visit more than three years before. Then it had been a barren waste of broken rock. Now there were solid cliffs and hills upon which dwellings had been built, and a liquid lake in which enormous (and very edible) fish dwelt, and a few clumps of Jotunheim’s black-trunked, thorny-leafed trees. To Asgardian eyes it was still not welcoming, but Thor could see the change, and that it was good. 

Then at Loki’s direction Thor circled Loki’s waist with one powerful arm, spun his hammer and launched them into the air. Together they flew to Thrymheim, Utgard, Gastropnir, and Thor saw how these icy cities throve now that a little of the Casket’s magic had been restored to the realm. 

Finally Loki took Thor to the cities and towns that had not yet been restored by the Casket on its too-brief annual visits. He showed Thor the piles of rubble from the frequent landslides, the scarcity of game, the stringy remnants of ancient forests. He showed Thor the marks of his own efforts to mend the worst of the damage with his own seiðr, and how little he could do in the face of how much needed to be done.

He was counting heavily on Thor’s essentially kind nature. Despite his ferocity in battle, Thor was generous everywhere else. He might laugh as he slew a hundred warriors, but when not in combat Thor was never cruel. Had it been he and not Odin who had conquered Jotunheim, the realm would not now be in this state; he could never have stomached the daily harshness this had required.

“Thor, do you see what just a few days more with the Casket would mean to us?” Loki began as they stood in the jagged remnants of what had once been a great temple. 

“Us.” Thor said the word quietly.

“Us frost giants.” Loki had grown accustomed to this truth in the years since discovering it. He had accepted his place caught between two realms, thinking and dressing like an Asgardian, looking like a Jotun (if a small one) and living on Jotunheim. He had never truly belonged on Asgard and he could never truly belong on Jotunheim. This was the fate the All-Father had sentenced him to. Loki accepted it because he had no choice.

“You have grown to care for these people.”

“Our father charged me to care for them. I am performing my duty.”

Thor looked around at the ruins, at the few Jotuns warily watching them from a distance.

“The Casket will be guarded by as many Aesir as you deem necessary. You may help to guard it yourself if you like, to prevent us from trying to keep it. But one week of its use will mean more food, stronger ground, more _life_ for Jotunheim.” Loki forced himself to stop. He wanted this too badly. He wanted his subjects to benefit from his rule. He wanted their harsh lives eased. A thousand years ago Jotunheim had been as beautiful, in its icy way, as Asgard. If not for Laufey’s cruelty and ambition it would still be thus. It could be thus again. The Jotnar had built great towers and harnessed great magics. Since then all their potential had been squandered in a struggle for bare survival. The Jotnar were capable of so much more.

Thor was looking at him. “Loki. I agree to your price.”

Loki hoped his relief was not written on his face, but likely it was.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor and Loki journey to Niflheim.

Niflheim was even colder than Jotunheim. Not one hour after Heimdall had transported them there via the Bifrost, Loki - who was wearing a heavy coat, it seemed even frost giants could get cold - cast a spell to keep Thor from freezing. Keeping him actually warm was apparently past the power of magic, but Thor stubbornly refused to complain. 

When Býleistr and Helblindi had learned that in return for not seizing Loki’s throne if he went away for a few days, they would be allowed to use the Casket for an entire week, they had both gone rigid with the effort of concealing their craving. Loki was right, they truly cared about their realm. Enough to prop up an outsider on the throne that should have belonged to one of them.

Thor had felt pity for this race of monsters (or “people”, as Loki would have put it with no more friendliness), in such need of their old relic. But at the same time, he had resolved that he would personally guard the Casket through that week. If the Jotnar ever thought they might be able to wrest it from Asgard… well, best to make sure they never thought it, that was all.

Loki had refused to allow Hogun to come with them, insisting that Hogun was the only Asgardian on Jotunheim who he could trust not to oppress his subjects. Thor had argued but Loki had been adamant.

Nothing went to a little brother’s head like being a king for a few years.

Thor wished that Loki was just his little brother again, not king of an enemy realm. He wanted to tell his brother about what he had done in the last two years. Loki would have approved. In the past, Thor’s family had had to drag him to meetings with the Thing or with Father’s assorted councillors. He had been happy enough to leave that to Loki much of the time, and Loki had far more patience with such tedium. Since Thor’s visit to Jotunheim with Mother, he had attended every meeting with no urging.

It wasn’t as tedious as it used to be, somehow.

During Thor’s first regency, his efforts to show his councillors that his rashness had at last been tempered had been in vain. If he listened to them they had spoken to him as if he were a fool, like Loki had used to when he was annoyed with Thor. If he asserted himself they had yielded instantly as if they thought he would toss them into a dungeon if they so much as quirked an eyebrow at him. 

Somehow it was different once he was a mere prince again. Perhaps they were simply less afraid of him. Regardless, they stopped placating him and resumed actually discussing things with him, as they had with Loki at such meetings before. Thor had never resented that, he had been content for his brother to be known as the clever one. There were many things he had never troubled himself to learn because he had believed that Loki would be there to know them for him. Now he found himself trying to be more like his little brother.

The councillors, generals and Thing of Asgard would never trust Loki - not the sly trickster who dabbled in women’s seiðr, who mortals had dubbed _god of mischief_ , not even before his true race was revealed - yet when Thor became a little more like him, their trust in Thor was restored. 

Father did not remark on Thor’s new diligence. Thor did not feel that he was especially pleased.

By the time of Thor’s second regency, he had much of Asgard’s trust again. 

Thor did get to engage in battle at times. The Dark Elves were restive and more than once attempted to encroach on Alfheim or Nornheim, and Thor would be dispatched with his legion to repel them. For years now, he and Loki had been alarmed at the increased willingness of certain of Asgard’s old enemies to test Asgard’s resolve, but Father had dismissed their concerns. If not for that, Thor might not have been headstrong enough to charge into Jotunheim with only five warriors that day. 

As it turned out, Father had had plans for dealing with Jotunheim. But Thor was fairly certain Father did not also have an adopted Dark Elf prince hanging about, or a fire giant who could rule Muspelheim.

But Thor had to keep all of these thoughts to himself as he and Loki trudged through the mists of Niflheim.

 

Thor had been right about needing Loki. Niflheim was completely unnavigable without magic, but most users of magic would not have honed the physical toughness needed to withstand the rigors of this realm. The swirling mists meant they could usually only see a few feet ahead of themselves at any time. Asgard’s sorceresses had been very certain that Thor’s friends had been spirited away to Niflheim, but where in that realm neither they nor Loki could determine from afar. Once they arrived, Loki cast a spell to trace them, but whatever evil wizard had taken them had made them difficult to detect. Loki could not say just where they were so that they might fly, or even return to Asgard via the Bifrost and then land again near them. No, they had to _walk_ , following the traces of magic Loki detected, with Loki re-casting the spell every half hour or so.

Thor would have suspected that Loki was just trying to put off returning to Jotunheim, except that Niflheim was far worse than Jotunheim could ever be.

Besides the mists, there were also frequent storms. Even Thor could not control them; he tried, the first couple of times, and failed utterly. After that Loki put a force field over them to stop the elements from ripping them apart, and they would huddle together, waiting for it to pass. 

The huddling was awkward.

It shouldn’t have been. Not with Loki. As children they had sometimes slept in the same bed, when too many stories about frost giants had them frightened, or when they were having too much fun together and refused to be separated just because it was bedtime. As adults at war they had often had to sleep crammed together in a tiny tent. They had wrestled each other all of their lives, playfully as children, more seriously as adults - little as Loki cared for fighting, he always practiced conscientiously. 

Even leaving aside the times they had been lovers, their bodies were thoroughly familiar to each other.

That should have changed with the revelation of Loki’s true species. At first Thor felt that it had. But as became increasingly evident with each day of journeying over Niflheim, Loki was still much the same.

And so were Thor’s feelings.

Thor had never thought he might desire a _frost giant_ , of all creatures. Jotnar and Aesir had been enemies for thousands of years. Jotuns were cold to the touch - Thor had used to believe that they were literally made of ice. And he had heard that they were both man and woman in one. He had not been able to bring himself to ask anyone once Loki’s heritage was revealed, but he had yet to see a frost giantess. They all looked male to him. Either they were hiding their women somewhere, or else they _were_ their women.

Apparently, Thor found each time he had occasion to put an arm around his foster brother, none of that mattered to him.

And Loki’s new form was beautiful as his old one had been. The way Loki’s ruby eyes stood out against his cool blue skin every time he blinked was entrancing. Thor had always liked seeing his brother in his helmet, never mind how much he had teased him about it; now that the horns were part of Loki, Thor found himself liking them more than ever. Smooth and the color of Midgardian ivory, they curved gracefully from Loki’s head. Thor wanted to touch them, but did not quite dare.

Loki never revealed by word or gesture or look that he remembered the forbidden feelings that had always been a part of their relationship, but Loki had always been skilled at hiding his emotions. The only reason Thor could ever read them when Loki did not want him to was a thousand years of knowing him.

 

It was while they were waiting out a storm during their third day in Niflheim that Loki finally asked, “Does Father find my service on Jotunheim satisfactory?”

“He has not complained.” Only after he said it did Thor realize that he had blundered. He should have come up with some small lie. It wasn’t as if he couldn’t guess what Loki hoped to hear.

“What has he said?”

Thor tried to remember. Damn it all, why had Father always been so stingy with praise where Loki was concerned? It was so obvious that Loki was desperate to….

When Thor at last put the pieces of that together, it was almost physically painful. That had been Father’s plan all along. A thousand years of wanting and now Loki would do anything to wring some praise from Father. Even become viceroy of a bleak enemy realm far from everyone he cared for, full of people who would be happy to kill him. 

And if this knowledge hurt Thor so much, what must it do to Loki, who had to live it?

“He has referred to your rule while discussing other things. He seems entirely confident that you will continue to keep your throne and prevent the Jotnar from going to war with other realms.”

Loki said nothing.

“You have done a truly extraordinary job, Loki. With so many difficulties you have kept the Jotuns peaceful and made their lives better. He knows that, I am sure.”

“Go to sleep, Thor.”

It was a long while before Thor was able to comply.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor and Loki slay a dragon, and Loki demands that Thor say his name.

The dragon’s teeth were each as long as Thor’s forearm. It moved with lightning speed in a blur of silver and blue, its great jaws snapping at them.

Thor laughed aloud. He hadn’t had this much fun in ages.

“How many times must I tell you to watch your back, Thor?” Loki demanded, raising his spear in time to deflect the dragon’s immense scaly tail before it could collide with Thor.

“I knew you would be there, Loki.” Thor grinned brilliantly at him even as he hurled his hammer. It hit the dragon in its midsection and hurtled back to Thor. “You are _always_ there.”

Suddenly there were twenty Lokis, all waving spears at an increasingly enraged dragon. The Loki nearest to Thor said, “You have too much faith in things that may not last.”

“Even in the heat of battle you are gloomy!” Thor took advantage of the dragon’s distraction to draw his sword and drive it into one of its limbs. The dragon’s scales were tough and he only managed to make a small slice in it.

The real Loki conjured a long spear of ice and hurled it into the dragon’s mouth. Thor brought his hammer down on an enormous paw as Loki hurled more ice blades into its face. One of them pierced the creature’s eye. Thor hurled his hammer at the dragon’s skull and finished it. It collapsed with one final cut-off roar. The ground shook as it fell.

Thor and Loki stood over its remains, panting for breath. There had been so many moments like this when they were side by side, covered with the blood of their enemies and filled with the fire of battle. Looking at Loki, Thor felt that this moment held every fight they had ever faced together, every bond that had ever been shared between them, everything they had ever been to each other.

Everything.

Thor could not have said which of them moved first. All he knew was that suddenly cool marble lips were parting under his and cool slender fingers were tangled in his hair.

The shape and movement of the body in his arms was familiar. The temperature and coloring were not. It was an intriguing mixture.

Thor lost himself in that kiss for a long time. When their lips finally parted, Loki immediately averted his face. “Don’t.”

“Loki-“

“Don’t.” Loki pushed at Thor’s chest. Thor tightened his grasp, ready to overwhelm Loki’s resistance with caresses as he had a thousand times before.

Then, reluctantly, he let Loki go.

Surprised, Loki nevertheless backed a few paces away. 

“Why not?” Thor asked, forcing himself to stay where he was. “You are not my brother.”

“No, but I am a frost giant.”

“I don’t care.”

Ruby eyes looked at him, unimpressed. 

“I don’t. You are beautiful, Loki. Just as you always have been.”

“To a warm-blooded Asgardian, it would be like fucking a corpse.”

Thor stepped towards Loki, moving slowly. When he carefully lifted a hand, Loki did not move away, just watched, wary. Thor placed his palm against the cool skin of Loki’s cheek, then slowly lowered his hand to Loki’s neck. 

“No,” he said. “It wouldn’t.”

Loki let him pull him close for another kiss. Loki still wanted him, it was clear in the way his mouth hungrily opened to Thor’s tongue, the way his fingers dug into Thor’s shoulders, the way he could not help pressing close. Thor took his time, made the kiss last as long as he could.

To Thor’s disappointment, Loki pushed away from him again, gasping for breath. “You fool. It isn’t only my coloring and temperature that have changed, you know. I assume you’ve heard.”

Thor felt his face warm. “Ehm. Yes.” He closed his fists, opened them. “I don’t care,” he insisted again.

Loki lifted an eyebrow.

“I don’t!” Thor fumbled for words. “The first time I was with a girl I didn’t know what to expect - not really. That turned out all right."

Loki still looked highly skeptical, but suddenly a familiar impish grin spread over his face. Thor scarcely had time to be alarmed - that smile seldom presaged anything good, unless one happened to be Loki.

“Come to think of it,” the silky smoothness of Loki’s voice was anything but reassuring, “the point is entirely moot.”

“What do you mean?” And wasn’t _this_ just like the old days, knowing Loki was closing a trap around him and having no idea how to avoid it.

“I now outrank you. _Prince_ of Asgard.”

Thor stared at him. The point could be debated, as Loki held his throne at the pleasure of Asgard, but the fact remained that Thor was now a prince and Loki a king.

Ruby eyes gleamed with triumph. “So, unless you mean to spread your legs for the king of Jotunheim, you must cease importuning me.”

A thrill of apprehension moved up Thor’s spine. He let Loki gloat for a moment before saying, “I could not admit it before, but I was always disappointed that I would never be able to experience this.”

“What?”

“I was always… curious.” Unable to hold back a little grin at Loki’s flummoxed expression, Thor pulled off his cloak and draped it on the ground. “Are you going to erect a force field for us or not?”

Loki continued to stare. When Thor began to pull his armor off, Loki apparently realized that he was not joking. Still looking amazed, he put up the force field, shielding them from Niflheim’s icy winds, and cast another spell to make the space a little warmer. Then, warily, he approached.

Thor pulled Loki close, smiling, and kissed him again. And again. Slowly he reached to stroke his hand over Loki’s horns. The move seemed to startle Loki, but he let Thor touch them. He still did not seem to believe Thor truly wanted this.

As if he could not.

The very first time they had lain together had been too heated for real seduction. Now, with Loki seeming about to bolt any second, Thor was having to call on all of his skill in that area, patiently coaxing Loki to each new step, soothing him with kisses and caresses. Loki made no move to remove his armor, so Thor undressed him, very slowly, lavishing attention on each inch of cool cobalt skin as it was revealed. Loki clearly did not believe that he could desire a Jotun; Thor was going to prove that he was wrong.

Loki balked at having his trousers removed, though the heavy bulge at his groin proved that at least one thing was unchanged. The flicker of actual fear in Loki’s eyes made Thor relent. “Very well. I would turn out the light, were we in a bedchamber. But we are not.” He pulled off his own trousers briskly and pulled Loki close for more kisses. The first touch of those cool fingers to his erection made him start and Loki moved his hand away. Thor seized it and brought it back, wrapping his hand around Loki’s on his prick. He grew accustomed to the cool quickly, or perhaps Loki’s fingers warmed a fraction; either way, the shock of that chilly touch was stimulating. He could see the surprise in Loki’s eyes between kisses, feel the slowly growing confidence of Loki’s hand on his prick.

He pulled back enough to take Loki’s face between his hands and look him in the eye.

“Loki. I have never wanted anyone as I wanted you. That has not changed now.”

Loki listened with wide eyes before surging forward to capture his mouth in another kiss.

“How do you want me?” Thor asked when he could speak again.

Loki looked as if he hadn’t thought Thor would not back out, even now. When Thor only waited, Loki said, “Turn around.”

So that Thor could not see his altered equipment. Of course. Thor would have preferred to be able to see Loki’s face. Still, he did as Loki asked, turning and waiting on all fours.

Loki spent a long time preparing him, slicking him with the oil he conjured, stretching him and teasing that untouched spot within him. Thor guiltily began to realize that he had never taken enough care - when he was able to think at all, when the bursts of ecstasy set off from Loki’s fingertips did not have him gasping and yearning and unable to do anything but _want._

“Loki,” he gasped at last, “give it to me. I want it. I want _you.”_

Loki’s fingers stilled, and a moment later Thor was being filled, stretched impossibly, and it hurt a little and the cold was bracing but mostly it was just _good_. He moved his knees a fraction farther apart, easing Loki’s entry a little. He could feel the fabric of Loki’s trousers against his legs; Loki had only opened them, not removed them.

It occurred to Thor abruptly that he was being conquered by a king. The thought sent hot dark pleasure through him.

Thor pressed down with his inner muscles, bucked back into Loki. He was rewarded with a strangled moan from Loki, and then Loki was pounding into him without restraint, and Thor was only able to close his eyes at the barrage of sensations.

One of Loki’s hands moved, not breaking contact with Thor’s skin, from Thor’s hip down to grip his erection. Thor was pierced by cold and enveloped by cold and it was wonderful.

“Say my name,” Loki gasped out.

Thor complied at once, struggling for breath. “Loki.”

He could feel Loki’s reaction in the extra force in his next thrust, the brief increase in the pressure of Loki’s hand on him. Those cold hands pulled Thor’s pelvis back so that he could be impaled even harder.

“Say my name!” Loki’s husky voice was tinged with desperation now.

“Loki!” Thor managed to make it louder this time.

Loki groaned, did something with his hips that seemed to fill Thor even more. 

“ _Loki.”_ This time Thor did not wait to be prompted, and the renewed force of Loki’s thrusts rewarded him.

They both moved more swiftly, and just when Thor felt he was about to explode, Loki eased the pressure of both his thrusts and his hand. Just the slightest bit, but it was enough to make Thor whimper, frustrated.

Loki leaned forward over him. _“Say. My. Name.”_

With that Loki slammed into him again, _hard,_ and his hand clamped on Thor’s cock, _hard,_ and Thor would have done anything to make Loki continue and so he did what Loki asked.

“ _Loki!”_

And then all thought was obliterated, there was only blissful sensation.

 

It was a long while before either of them spoke. No words seemed adequate to the occasion. Both had believed that they would never have each other again. Nor had they ever believed that they could ever switch roles in this, or that the coupling of an Aesir prince and a Jotun king was feasible.

Eventually Loki broke the silence.

“Thor… I think we still should keep this secret from Father.”

“Why? Now we know we are not brothers.”

“He knew we were not brothers before. That did not stop him from taking the lash to us both.”

Thor had never resented those punishments. They had seemed only reasonable; a father could hardly allow his sons to lie together. Now that Thor knew they were not brothers by birth, he wondered why Father had not simply told them the truth.

Loki unintentionally answered that question a moment later when he said, “And I doubt he would want his son rutting with a frost giant.”

Thor tightened his embrace. Loki had borne being the less favored son bravely. Now he was bearing life as a monster and exile from his home bravely. Perhaps Father was not proud of him, but Thor was. 

“Loki, how can I help you on Jotunheim?”

Loki tensed in his arms. “By keeping your word about the Casket.”

“You know I will. But - if there is anything else….”

“Well, since you ask. It would help if you would tell the Asgardian warriors stationed on Jotunheim not to harass the natives.” Loki’s tone was blistering. “They might do it less if they thought _you_ did not approve.”

“I will, then.”

After a long minute, Loki said, “Thank you,” very quietly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of the dialogue when they were fighting the dragon was taken from the graphic novel _Ultimate Comics Thor_ , which has some very nice flashbacks about their youthful friendship before Loki became a villain.
> 
> As for the "Say my name," I couldn't resist. If you've been in Jotunheim all weekend and don't get the reference, it's to [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=toPstPIcGnI).


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor and Loki rescue Thor's friends, Loki talks to Frigga, and Thor takes the Casket to Jotunheim.

“On the third day Loki and I were set upon by a dragon large enough to fill this hall!”

Loki refrained from pointing out that three dragons like the one in Niflheim would have fit into Asgard’s feast hall quite comfortably.

Once upon a time Loki had enjoyed Asgardian feasts. So many opportunities for mischief. He could pick up gossip and plant rumors and play people off on each other and then sit back and watch the show. 

His new alien status put most of these pursuits beyond his reach. He had to settle for hidden amusement at the horrified stares he received as he consumed a large platter of freshly slaughtered raw meat. He refrained from asking for a side of naughty children. Barely.

Thor was still telling his tale. “And after Loki pierced the dragon’s eye with a spear of ice, I was able to deliver the final blow with Mjölnir.”

Thor did not mention what had happened after the dragon was slain. Letting an enemy king bend you over didn’t really make for a good story, Loki supposed, even if said enemy king wasn’t also your foster brother.

“It was on the sixth day that we saw the fortress. Immense, made of black stone. It was surrounded by an immense moat that somehow remained liquid even in that bitter cold. And out of that moat reared a tremendous sea serpent. I summoned lightning and galvanized the moat, killing the fearsome beast. Then Loki turned the water to ice so that we were able to walk across it.”

The moat had been enchanted, of course. Loki had found that odd; why not fill it with something other than water, rather than go to the trouble of maintaining an enchantment on it to keep it liquid? At least it was convenient for him; any Jotun old enough to walk could have turned the water to ice.

“As soon as we crossed the moat a swarm of giant bats attacked us, so I again summoned lightning and they fled the blinding light.”

Loki stopped listening to Thor’s account of how he had knocked a hole in the fortress - which had no doors or gates - with Mjölnir, or how Loki had gotten them through a web of magic with the help of a host of illusory doppelgangers, and the various monsters - mindless beasts all - they had combated on their way to the center of the fortress. He was watching his mother’s face, gauging her reactions.

She looked… satisfied.

Father still slept. Mother ruled Asgard and had agreed to Loki’s price for his help, even praising Loki - in front of the entire court - for asking for a boon to help his people, not something for himself. Loki did not imagine he had been being unselfish. It was more that the things he wanted for himself were not in Thor’s gift.

Well, not most of them.

But he had taken the praise as gracefully as he could, even while the expressions of the Aesir showed their opinion of asking for boons to benefit frost giants. 

“None but Loki could have defeated that spell!” Thor declared, jostling Loki from his thoughts. Loki felt a pang of longing even as he made himself smile at Thor. Had Thor given him a fraction of the credit he had deserved for aiding Thor’s adventures with his magic _before,_ Asgard would have been a friendlier place for Loki. Thor had grown up enough to admit it when his little brother’s seiðr got him out of trouble, but in the eyes of Asgard, nothing could compensate for being a frost giant. They would hate him no matter what he did now.

“Who was the scoundrel who captured your friends?” someone was asking Thor. “Did you bring back his head?”

“ _Her_ head,” Loki murmured. The seiðr had shown many signs of a woman’s hand. One could never be certain, but Loki believed a woman was behind this.

“There was no sign of the culprit anywhere. He may well have been on another realm. But in the heart of the fortress we found Sif, Fandral, and Volstagg, all unharmed but in an enchanted sleep.”

The sight had made Loki all the more suspicious, and he had insisted on spending considerable time magically searching for traps before he would allow Thor to enter the chamber that held his friends. He had even resorted to summoning a block of ice around Thor’s feet to hold him in place - of course Thor had broken out swiftly, but it had slowed him down long enough for Loki to make the oaf _listen_. And Thor had reluctantly agreed to wait until Loki had determined as best he could that there were no further traps.

There were none. 

“Loki used his seiðr to awaken my friends and we were able to return to Asgard at once.”

Thor tactfully neglected to mention that his friends were even less grateful than they usually were when Loki saved their idiotic lives. In between awakening and entering the Bifrost, they had accused Loki of being the one responsible for their imprisonment. Not because they had any evidence - they remembered nothing of their apprehension - but because… well, because they never had much liked Loki, that was all. But they had been sure he had some dire scheme, even before they found out about the boon Thor had promised him for his help.

“You trusted him before because you believed him to be your brother,” Sif had declared, “even though the rest of us could clearly see that he was untrustworthy. But now you know he is not. How can you continue to be blind to his true nature?”

Loki had not troubled to answer them. He only said wearily to Thor, “The next time you need help saving your brainless friends, find some other sorcerer.” They had appeared deeply offended by this.

To do him justice, Thor had argued with them. Angrily and forcefully. Not that it had done any good. They merely thought him still blinded by misplaced familial affection.

Loki had amused himself during the argument by imagining their reactions had they known the true nature of their affection for each other. 

Loki stayed at the feast until late into the night, indulging in the sweets that were hard to create on Jotunheim. He had always had a sweet tooth. At least Jotunheim’s fruits were even sweeter than those found elsewhere. Perhaps that was why he craved sweets so; he had been meant to live on a world whose fruits tasted as if they had already been stewed in sugar when they were taken off the tree. 

Loki waited until Mother rose to retire, and then he moved forward before anyone else could. “May I escort you, Mother?”

She was not fooled by his courteous demeanour, but she took his arm. When they reached her chamber, she gestured him to come inside without making him ask. She dismissed the servants and the two of them sat across from each other as they had innumerable times before. The room was too warm for him, but he did not permit himself to complain.

“I have to wonder why anyone would trouble to capture Thor’s friends and not harm them,” Loki said evenly. “The obvious answer would be that they were intended as bait to capture or kill Thor, but whoever took them was not present to vanquish him, and while the obstacles surrounding his friends were challenging, they were no match for his strength and my magic. Surely a sorceress capable of creating such a fortress should have realized this. Indeed, most of the perils might almost have been designed for the specific purpose of being overcome by our skills.” He outlined the apples carved in the chair’s arm with a slender blue finger. “And the most impressive magic was that which shielded his friends from all attempts to seek them out. It forced me to do the searching spell several times each day… so that Thor and I had to spend several days in each other’s company, just the two of us, questing.”

After holding his gaze for a long moment, Frigga smiled. “You always were clever, Loki.”

He put a hand over his eyes. “Mother, how could you take such a risk?”

“I knew the two of you would-“

“What if Father finds out?”

“Finds out what? That I forced our sons to learn to work together again? That is no more than my duty as Queen - and as a mother.”

“I hardly think that forcing your son to cooperate with the king of the monsters falls under your queenly duties. Thor and I live in different realms now, we have little need to work together.”

She made an impatient gesture. “Loki, I love you because you are my son. But besides that, I always felt that your father’s impulse to adopt you was a gift from the Norns. The son I bore needs you. And you need him. I have always believed that together, the two of you would make one good king. You need his benevolence, his courage. His joy. He needs your guile, your caution. I needed you to be brothers again.”

“Brothers.” Loki allowed himself a tight, cynical smile. “That isn’t exactly what happened.”

To his shock, she only nodded as if she had half expected this outcome. “That will do as well.”

He stared at her. “And just what do you imagine could come of that?” A sudden thought occurred to him. “Did you hope for a single heir to both thrones?” She only held his gaze. He fell back against his chair, releasing his breath in a sharp exhalation. “By the Norns, Mother. Are you certain _I_ am the adopted one?”

She smiled a little. “I would be tempted to wonder, if I did not so clearly remember the day your father put you in my arms.”

“I hope you were not counting on a mutual heir for me and Thor. That is… unlikely. A pity, since Asgard would doubtless be overjoyed to see a Jotun half-breed on its throne.” He shook his head. “Do you actually think Father would ever allow….”

“I think that united, my sons could do anything.”

“And what is it you want us to do?”

“Keep peace among the Realms! I have seen enough of war in my life. I have seen enough people mourning their sons and fathers and brothers. I have spent enough hours fearing that those I love would never return. I have watched the man I lost my heart to turn to stone bit by bit from hardening his own heart to do the things he must to keep the peace. I want no more of it!”

“So you set up a quest you knew Thor could not resist, and one that he would need my help for. And you did it while Father was asleep….”

“Thor was in danger of becoming a mere figurehead. I raised him for better things. I waited until he was king so that he could turn to no one else to make his decision.”

Loki did not dare to voice - he scarcely dared to think the treasonous idea that teased his mind. Thor had said Father had fallen into the Odinsleep early because he had been ill. But surely - no, Mother would not go so far.

Loki banished the thought before he could question it.

He rose and took her hand to kiss. “The sorceress who kidnapped Thor’s friends has inadvertently done Jotunheim a great favor. I fear I will have to take your son from you for a few more days. He wishes to guard the Casket himself while it is on Jotunheim.”

Before retiring, Loki went to Odin’s bedside and sat beside it for a time. He would have liked to pour his heart out to Father about a thousand things, but the warriors who guarded Odin looked at him with surly distrust and he knew they would not leave if he tried to dismiss them.

“I am trying to rule Jotunheim well, Father,” was all he could say. “I watch them carefully for any signs of making ready for war. I have tried to ease the misery of their lives. I think I have earned some loyalty from them.” His voice caught and he was silent for a minute. At last he finished, “I hope my work has pleased you, Father. That is all I wish to do.”

He returned to his own chamber, alone.

 

Thor was surprised by how much he enjoyed escorting the Casket throughout Jotunheim. He enjoyed watching Loki’s half-brothers take it up and unleash a torrent of power from it and seeing lakes of ice turn to lakes of water teeming with gigantic fish, watching alien black forests spring from the snowy terrain, seeing heaps of rubble resolve themselves into majestic mountains. Thor watched and knew that granting Loki this boon had been the right thing to do.

Loki had not planned to accompany them, but was easily persuaded. Thor could tell he was enjoying himself too, seeing his realm come alive. He hoped he had done his brother some good with his subjects as well; the Jotuns seemed more pleased with Loki as he travelled the realm with the Casket.

He asked Loki to spend the night with him, more than once, but Loki was too afraid of discovery. They were surrounded by their Jotnar entourage and their Asgardian warrior guard. 

Still, when it was time to take the Casket back to Asgard, Thor felt that the bond he and Loki once shared had been restored. Right before calling to Heimdall to open the Bifrost, he placed his hand on the side of Loki’s neck and smiled into his eyes for a moment before embracing him - in a brotherly fashion because of all the watching eyes.

“I will visit you again, Loki,” he promised.

Loki gave him a tentative answering smile. 

Emboldened, Thor assured him, “Father will be proud.”

Thor was still smiling when he let the Bifrost take him and the Casket away.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Odin is awake and comes to Jotunheim to see Loki's work there.

“What did you imagine I put you here to do?”

“To rule Jotunheim!”

“To keep the peace! The Jotnar are a warlike race. If their world thrives they will rise up and terrorize the realms once more!”

“Father, the Jotnar are in no condition to terrorize the realms even if they wished to. They are struggling to survive! Is that what you want?”

“You do not remember their invasion of Midgard. You did not see how many they killed with a single torrent from the Casket.”

“So they must all live in misery forever after? I can hardly hold the throne you gave me by oppressing my subjects. Surely I have a duty to them as well as to Asgard!”

“Your first duty is to _me!_ I am your father! I am the one who saved your life when you were an infant!”

Loki lowered his head, unable to find more words. This was the end, then. He had given up everything - _everything_ \- to please his father, and had failed yet again. 

Loki had thought that this feat, to show what Jotunheim could be like with a little more use of its Casket, would be the one which won his father over to him. There was nothing else he could do. He had known this was his final hope, but now he realized that in his heart he had not truly believed that he might not succeed. That his father would not finally see his value. That Father would not at last smile at him the way he had smiled at Thor all of their lives.

He was never going to receive what he had spent his entire life struggling for.

Loki made no effort to suppress the tears that welled from his eyes. Pride was nothing to him now. Nothing was anything to him. He realized dully that his life was going to continue after this moment. Then he realized it was not possible for life to go on. Everything was simply going to stop, and this would be all. This was the end of his story. The only possible end.

Father turned away from him and moved to the door of the Jotun throne room. “On your head be what I must do now.”

Loki’s head snapped up. “What?” When Father did not answer, Loki hurried after him. “Father, what are you going to do?”

“I am going to do what is necessary to keep the peace between the realms.”

Loki stood in front of him, blocking his path. “Father - please. It was my error, my vanity. The Jotnar are innocent. Do not punish them for my mistake!”

Father merely looked impatient. “Move aside.” When Loki did not, Father shoved him roughly. “Move _aside!”_

Loki was genuinely terrified now, forgetting his own cruel disappointment in his fear for his subjects. “Father, please just listen!” Father was an old man, but Loki had to struggle to keep up with his pace now. “Father, it was my fault. They are blameless. Punish me! Have me flogged before all Jotunheim. Have me publicly executed! Just do not hurt them!”

Father spared him a withering glance. “You know I cannot do that.”

Loki did know that. Even through his daze of panic and heartbreak, he saw the reasons clearly. Loki, the Asgardian-reared Jotun prince, was Odin’s only likely candidate for viceroy. If Loki died, Odin would lose most of his hold on the realm. He would be back to making a raid every time Jotunheim grew restless, and would be unable to manipulate Jotunheim’s actions to his own purpose without a permanent ruler under his command. And his trouble now was not that Loki had showed too much initiative. Slapping his adopted son down was a simple matter. The trouble was that a more thriving Jotunheim was a Jotunheim in less need of Asgard’s mercy.

Loki should have seen all of this. He simply had not believed his father capable of that degree of ruthlessness. He had thought he had been sent here to be a benevolent steward to a land too broken to ever again be a threat. 

Loki had been wrong about everything.

They were outside now. A retinue of Aesir moved into formation around their king as soon as he emerged. “Gather all the Aesir here. They are returning home within the hour,” Odin ordered one of them. Jotnar and Asgardian warriors were going about their business, a few curious glances directed at the two kings.

Then all movement stopped and everyone stared as the king of Jotunheim fell to his knees in front of Odin All-Father.

Loki bowed his head, not kneeling on one knee as he had done on a thousand state occasions before, but on both knees like a thrall or a prisoner. He dared to seized the edge of Father’s coat, desperate to hold him just for long enough to make his plea.

“Father, I beg you. Do what you must to me, but do not harm my subjects for my folly. Please!”

“Get up, Loki. You are returning to Asgard with us.”

Loki glanced up, confused, but doggedly continued his pleas. “Father. I did all of this for you. To prove to you that I am a worthy son. That I was worth picking up in that temple.”

“And you have been, despite this mistake. I know it is not one you will repeat.”

Loki stared up at Odin, horrified as he realized that he had selfishly condemned his own people in trying to win his father’s love.

“Father, you cannot make my people suffer for my crime!”

Father half-smiled, not happily. “Loki. The people always suffer for the crimes of their kings.”

He gestured to two of the Asgardians and they hauled Loki to his feet. 

“Father, please, at least take time to consider - there must be some other way-“ Father strode away from him. Loki pulled against the powerful arms that held him, and when they did not release him, summoned the Jotun freezing touch. The warriors released him, cursing. Father turned and saw what he had done.

The last thing Loki saw before losing consciousness was a bolt of blinding light from Gungnir.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki awakens and learns what occurred while he was unconscious.

Loki awoke in his old room in Asgard. He tried to sit up with a jerk, but he was chained in place.

There were numerous ways he could escape the chains, even if they were enchanted, but his innate caution asserted itself and he lay back to gather information first.

He was lying on his old bed, still in the full ceremonial armor in which he had received his Father. His liege lord. A healer was leaning over him, crumbling a healing stone over him, repairing whatever damage Gungnir had done to him. A pair of guards stood sentry on either side of the door.

The only other person in the room was Hogun, sitting in a chair near the bed, waiting.

“What happened?” Loki asked quietly.

Hogun waited until the healer had left the room before answering. “The king took all the Asgardians home. Then he returned to Jotunheim with an army.”

With longing, Loki remembered a day a few years ago when he had been dreading marriage to Princess Coselli. He wished for the harrowing moments on Niflheim when Thor had embraced him and Loki had waited for Thor to recoil from his coldness, from his blue skin, from his changed body. He remembered the few moments Father had given him that morning to believe that having his own heart broken was the worst thing that might happen to him.

“To do what? Just… kill Jotuns?”

“He has also taken magical weapons which will undo some of what the Casket has done for Jotunheim.”

Loki closed his eyes. This was his fault. His actions had not been malicious, and there had been only the smallest bit of foolishness in them, but still, he had brought fresh disaster upon the heads of his subjects, those entrusted to his care. 

Now he knew that personal heartbreak was infinitely lighter to bear than guilt. He swore to himself: if ever again he had the choice between those, he would pick the former.

“The army he took to Jotunheim. Was Thor among them?”

“No. Before the All-Father went to Jotunheim, he sent Thor to put down an attack the Dark Elves made on Vanaheim.”

So that Thor would not know what his father was up to and try to interfere. Thor was beloved of Asgard’s warriors. Open dispute between the king and the prince could threaten Odin’s power.

_Nicely done, Father,_ Loki thought.

And then knew that he would never call Odin that again.

“And the king sent the queen to Alfheim on a diplomatic mission. It is unlikely that she knows what has occurred. I volunteered to sit with you. To tell you all of this when you awoke. The king commanded me to tell you that you will be returned to Jotunheim tonight, after he is finished there.” Loki glanced at the window and saw that dusk was already gathering. “You will be accompanied by a fresh hundred Asgardian warriors. None of us who have been there with you will be permitted to return.”

Because the Aesir who had been on Jotunheim for the past three years had come to find the Jotnar less monstrous and could not be counted upon to properly oppress them. With no more belief in his not-father’s morals, Loki could see his reasoning with crystal clarity.

“Hogun. Why did you volunteer to come to Jotunheim?”

“To serve Asgard,” was the prompt answer.

Loki looked at him, saying nothing.

Hogun gave a slight shrug. “I have never trusted you. I thought someone who knew you well should be there to watch you.” 

“I see.”

Hogun stood. “And because I knew this would be a hard task for you. We were never friends, Loki. But we were shield-brothers.”

Loki held Hogun’s gaze. “Thank you, former shield-brother,” he said gravely.

Hogun nodded once and left.

A few minutes after the door had closed behind Hogun, Loki loosed his freezing touch upon the chains on his wrist. They shattered and he did the same to those on his ankles. The sentries came for him at once, but found that their hands passed through his doppelganger as he slipped out the door.

He had to get to the vault. With the Casket he could make some reparations to Jotunheim for his blunder. He would seize it and use one of his secret pathways between the worlds and Odin would just have to choose between another war with a properly armed Jotunheim or leaving them in peace with a repaired realm. Even if he died in the attempt at least he would-

His thoughts were obliterated by a flash of searing pain. When his vision cleared, he was crouched on the floor, looking at the hem of a familiar gold garment, and the butt of a familiar golden spear.

He did not bother to look up. Instead he noted how many pairs of boots were surrounding him.

Odin spoke. “Are you prepared to return quietly, or must I send you back unconscious?”

Loki closed his eyes and kept his head down.

“I obey your command, my liege.” The words were grudging, but they were enough for Odin.

“Get up. You are returning now. Your new Asgardian troops will arrive on the morrow.”

Loki obeyed. The Jotnar would probably kill him when he returned. He did not want to die, but his death would be some recompense. 

Loki let himself be marched to the Observatory and sent back to Jotunheim.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki returns to Jotunheim.

When the Bifrost deposited Loki in front of his palace, he did not allow himself to close his eyes against the sight. 

Jotunheim looked much as it had when he had first seen it. Broken rock and broken ice and desolation all around.

And a great many dead Jotnar. 

Dead, and wounded. Everywhere the living and the walking wounded attended the injured, dug through piles of rock, carried the casualties to safer ground.

Seeing the carnage around him, Loki found that his legs could no longer support him. He fell to his knees and just looked.

The immense legs of a normally sized Jotun approached him. Loki glanced up dully. It was Býleistr, his half-brother and rightful king of Jotunheim. Býleistr’s face was rigid, as if nothing it could do would be adequate to express what he now felt. One of Býleistr’s huge hands curled into a fist.

Still on his knees, Loki lowered his head. 

Býleistr stood before him for a long while. Loki waited.

The lethal blow Loki expected never came. Without a word Býleistr stalked away and resumed digging through rubble to unearth the trapped. Everyone else pointedly ignored Loki, their foreign-raised alien king.

Loki tore off his long green cloak. Jotun green, which his false father had clothed him in all of his life. He then pulled off his armor, one piece at a time, letting each fall unheeded into the snow. Once he had removed the shirt - whose sole function since he had been returned to his Jotun form had been to prevent the armor from chafing his skin - he had to stand. Off came the boots, the greaves, the leggings.

A couple of the Jotnar were glancing his way in vague curiosity as they continued about their business. Throughout three years on Jotunheim, Loki had never uncovered more than his hands and face.

Loki picked up his cloak and tore it with his hands. After a bit of fumbling he was able to fashion it into a rough semblance of the kilts worn by the Jotnar.

Then, leaving his Asgardian garb on the ground behind him, Loki walked into the wreckage.

 

Loki did not pause to eat or sleep throughout that night or the next day. He called on his seiðr to reconstitute the shattered rock, unearthing the Jotuns trapped beneath. He healed every injury brought before him. Perhaps he should properly have been directing the efforts of others, but such thoughts were impossibly distant to him now. He took one plodding step after another, did whatever it was he saw before him that needed doing. Sometimes other Jotuns would call to him that he was needed here or there; numbly he went, not stopping to realize that they were ordering their king about like a common lackey. Likely they did not realize it either.

It was when the sun was setting that the aurora which presaged the opening of the Bifrost appeared in the sky yet again. All the Jotnar watched the sky in apprehension, conjuring blades of ice, moving back. Loki alone moved towards the site. If it was more Asgardian warriors come to deliver reprisals, Loki would blunt their wrath if he could. 

Only one Asgardian warrior emerged from the Bifrost’s light. Thor.

Thor took the briefest of glances around at the shattered landscape before focusing on Loki. He noticed Loki’s unfamiliar clothes, but said only one thing to him.

“How can I help?”

Before he knew it Loki’s arms were around Thor, crushing him close. Thor’s strong arms supporting him were a shocking relief. Loki realized he was shaking and wondered how long he had been doing so.

Trying to think, Loki straightened a little. “Perhaps you should not. The All-Father may become angry again.”

“If Odin intends to commit more atrocities here, there is nothing we can do to prevent him. Do not let that hinder you from doing good.” It was Býleistr, standing behind him. “What can you do, Asgardian?”

Thor spoke to Býleistr as to a fellow general. “My father sent Asgardian warriors. Where are they?”

“At the palace, in the Aesir quarters.”

Thor stepped away from Loki, giving Loki’s shoulder a brief reassuring squeeze. “I shall command them to help with clearing the rubble. Then I shall return here to do what I may.” He began to twirl his hammer.

Loki managed a tiny mirthless laugh. “Thor, they are not going to-“

Thor’s mouth thinned grimly. “Oh, yes they are.” And with that he was flying through the air towards the palace.

Býleistr looked after him. “Your brother commands great respect from his people.”

“Foster brother. And yes, he always has. I was always so envious of him.” Loki said the words dully, unable to remember the emotions which had once fired them. He glanced around, then walked to where two Jotuns were pulling another out of a heap of rubble. The third was still alive, and Loki knelt beside him, put his hands over the Jotun’s chest, and channelled his seiðr into his body. He could feel the Jotun’s body repairing itself as Loki’s magic worked its way through him.

Loki’s magic had grown steadily stronger since he had come to Jotunheim. It seemed it found its native soil more congenial. Now Loki was grateful for this, or would have been had he retained any capacity to feel.

When Thor returned, his expression grim from whatever argument he had come from, Loki went to him and began to muster glowing seiðr in his palms. “Thor’s hammer is not only a weapon to destroy. It can also be a tool to build,” he told Býleistr. “Thor. Summon lightning.”

Thor did. Loki twined his seiðr with it, their powers combining, feeding upon each other. Loki directed the surging energy into the rubble around them, and in a painful burst of light and sound, the rubble flowed up from the ground and resolved itself into solid rock once more.

With Thor’s power at his disposal, Loki could repair far more of Jotunheim, and far better.

They continued doing this for days, occasionally curling up wherever they happened to be to snatch some sleep. A few times a Jotun approached them with a fresh kill and they accepted it without comment. Normally Loki would have been carefully distributing what food there was, rather than leaving this duty to whoever had undertaken it, but he was in a trance and his universe consisted of the injured Jotun or heap of rubble before him at the moment, and his foster brother’s warm, reassuring presence at his side. 

Mercifully, it meant he did not have to think.


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki remembers how to scheme.

When there was nothing more that Thor and Loki could do to repair the damage, they journeyed back to the palace. All that they could do was still not enough. Too many Jotuns had been killed by the rockslides or by Asgardian warriors. Loki’s healing seiðr was limited. And he was able to find no way that his power or Thor’s could again revitalize the stagnant seas or withered forests. They would have to wait for the Casket’s next annual visit - assuming that Odin would still keep that part of his bargain.

Back in the palace, Thor insisted that he and Loki spend every night together. Not for pleasure; neither of them had any interest just now. But Thor did not think Loki ought to be alone, and Loki could not disagree. They slept in the guest chambers Thor and Frigga had occupied on their previous visit; Loki’s usual room was too cold for Thor, and Loki could endure the comparative warmth of the guest chambers better than Thor could endure the freezing cold of Loki’s.

When Loki first returned to the palace, in his own chambers he found three properly sewn green Jotun kilts, sized for him. He donned one without comment and his wardrobe of Asgardian clothes was thereafter ignored.

Thor and Loki talked little. During the day, Thor sparred with the Asgardian warriors and tried to impress on them the need to be merciful to the Jotnar. Loki supposed that the moment Thor left these lessons would be forgotten, but Thor did not mention leaving and Loki was not going to be the one to broach the subject.

Býleistr began coming to Loki to discuss matters of state as they had regularly since Loki’s arrival. These meetings were bleak. They carefully avoided mentioning the bilgesnipe in the room, such as whether Odin would allow the Casket to make its annual visit the following year, or whether the indifferent protection of the Asgardian occupiers would be enough to preserve Loki from assassination, once Thor was gone. They confined their discussion to daily trivia, matters which were within their current capabilities. Organizing Jotnar to scour the again-dying forests for what food could be salvaged, for example. Expeditions to unpopulated areas in search of game.

The meetings were the grimmer because before, Helblindi had always joined them. He had been killed in the attack, one of the first to die.

After a few days, Loki realized that Thor and Býleistr were meeting together without him. This awakened his old instincts, and one evening he bolted himself in his own bedchamber, filled his silver bowl with water, and cast the scrying spell over it.

The image shimmered and then became clear on the water’s surface. Býleistr and Thor were sitting together in a room of stone; Býleistr’s chamber, Loki guessed. It was always jarring to see how much larger a Jotun was than Thor, Thor who normally towered over everyone around him. 

“Father will not send an army here so long as I am here. Do you think an Asgardian army will oppose me? I am beloved of Asgard’s warriors. Father will not risk his power by setting them against me.”

“But you cannot stay here forever, Asgardian. Your king will demand your return before long.”

Thor nodded reluctantly. “I swear to you, I will do my best to persuade him to be merciful to Jotunheim when I return.”

“You? Who first came here just for the glory of killing Jotnar? How many of them did you kill that day, Odinson?”

“I was foolish and rash and I am truly sorry. Loki tried to stop me from coming here that day and I should have listened to him.”

Loki shook his head a little, peering into the silver bowl. At the time he had been so proud of his own ingenious scheme, but he had danced to the All-Father’s tune as much as anyone else had ever danced to his. Loki had only succeeded in paving the way for Odin’s plan to install him as puppet king. And Thor was accepting the blame and the guilt so earnestly, because once the information that he was wrong penetrated his inch-thick skull, he was surprisingly humble. It was getting through that skull that had always been the problem….

“And when you are king?” Býleistr was asking. “What then?”

“I will be a friend to Jotunheim. You have my word. I would not act against my brother.”

“You have great affection for our little king.”

“Of course I do. He is my brother.”

Loki could not help but smile into the bowl.

“I have done what I can to protect my half-brother,” Býleistr said, emphasizing the last word, “and will continue to do so.”

The rest of the conversation was dull stuff about the Asgardian barracks and the palace orphanage of Jotun runts and weaklings. Now that life was harsh again and among the injured in Asgard’s attack had been many children, more children were being left in temples and Loki’s command to bring them to the palace held. Loki’s half-brothers had never seemed especially approving of this pet project of his, but they had not opposed him and that was all he asked. Thor, on the other hand, had considered it one of Loki’s best ideas from the first time he had heard of it. Now Býleistr seemed to have accepted that feeding these useless mouths was a priority after all. 

When Thor departed, Loki continued watching Býleistr, more from inertia than interest. His curiosity was awakened when Býleistr peered into the hall after a moment, and then, having ascertained that Thor was gone, left his room with wary looks around him.

A familiar hammering sounded at Loki’s door. Loki swiftly conjured a doppelganger to pass through the door and explain to Thor that Loki was busy working on some magic and he would see him soon. Used to being sometimes turned away for Loki’s studies, Thor returned to his own chambers.

Býleistr’s destination was a short distance from the palace, obscured from view by boulders and ice. Loki inhaled sharply when he saw who Býleistr was there to meet.

Dark Elves.

The Dark Elves had long been enemies of Asgard, and of Alfheim, and of virtually everyone else. When they formed alliances, it was on the basis of mutual enemies, nothing more. And they had a history of betraying their allies when they had what they wanted. Only the desperate made alliances with them.

Jotunheim was now desperate.

Loki listened to only the first few sentences before ending the spell. Going to the window, he conjured a narrow pillar of ice and slid down it.

Then he ran.

When he neared the meeting place, he took a moment to catch his breath. Then he moved silently nearer.

“If you open a portal into Asgard and send an army into that realm,” Býleistr was saying, “we will send an army too. But you will have to open a portal for us because we cannot do it without the Casket. And for our help, we _must_ receive the Casket.”

“Certainly,” a sickly sweet voice replied. “After all, we have the rest of Asgard’s weapons vault to plunder, one relic less will make little difference to us.”

All the pieces arrayed themselves in Loki’s mind and his plan unfolded before him.

When Loki stepped between two boulders and joined them, he was his old self again. “You cannot hope to defeat Asgard in a direct fight,” Loki announced, calmly as though he had been expected. “Your plan will only bring you to grief.”

“How did you-“ Býleistr began.

“I am a sorcerer,” Loki reminded him. His half-brother didn’t need to know more than that. He addressed the Dark Elf who had been speaking. “There is nothing I want more than for Jotunheim to have the Casket back. But your plan is doomed to fail. You do not have enough warriors or enough magic to combat Asgard.”

“You sound very sure,” the elf sneered.

“I was a prince of Asgard,” Loki reminded him. “And I learned a great deal more about Asgard’s defenses than I was told. Even if they do not take the relics from the vault - any one of which would destroy you - there is still the Bifrost.”

Býleistr frowned. “The Bifrost is a pathway.”

“Which uses tremendous energy. Have you never wondered why Asgard never simply leaves the Bifrost open? Its power builds every moment that it is open. Leaving it open more than briefly unleashes that power. By leaving it open for several minutes, Asgard could kill thousands of us and wreak even more destruction on our world than they already have. They could have utterly destroyed Jotunheim, killing every single Jotun and reducing the entire planet to rubble floating in space, at any time - by simply leaving the Bifrost open for an hour.”

This news was met with a sort of stunned silence. “I am not certain I believe you, half-brother,” Býleistr said at length. “You were raised on Asgard. Your loyalties are of necessity divided.”

“Ask any sorcerer. I cannot be the only one here who survived the attack. Why do you think I did not suggest that we retaliate by waiting until they opened the Bifrost for whatever reason, traveling through it to Asgard, and there summoning ice to freeze the mechanism which holds it open? It would only take two or three of us to do that - one Jotun could do it were Heimdall not such an able warrior. With the Bifrost held open we could send an army through it and invade Asgard and reclaim our Casket. But our realm would be destroyed, and every Jotun still on it killed.”

The elf’s head jerked and Loki was careful to guard his expression despite the swelling of triumph he felt. The energies of Svartalfheim were inimical to the Bifrost. When Asgardians had occasion to visit it, the Bifrost deposited them on one of Svartalfheim’s moons, and there was a known portal between that moon and Svartalfheim’s capital. The same pathway was used on the infrequent occasion that diplomatic relations were such that Dark Elves were brought to Asgard.

Forcing the Bifrost open would not cost the Dark Elves too much. They would lose only a moon, not their world, and what they might gain in return would easily make up for it.

Loki could see this idea taking root in the elf’s mind. Býleistr sat down heavily. 

“Then we have no recourse.”

“We will think of something, Býleistr.” In fact, Loki already had thought of something, but he could hardly say so now.

The elf smiled, a bright sharp smile full of malice. “It seems an alliance between us will not be to our mutual benefit just now, Jotun. Perhaps one day.” He and his cohorts inclined their heads in a slight bow before leaving.

Býleistr’s hand shot out to grip Loki’s neck. Loki could still breathe, with some discomfort. He resisted the instinct to struggle. “I do not appreciate being spied upon, half-a-brother.”

“If I had not spied upon you, you would have joined that elf in a doomed attack that might have seen the Bifrost tearing Jotunheim apart.” Býleistr’s hand eased slightly. “I do not make a habit of this, half-brother. I merely grew curious as to what my foster brother was doing, away from me and from the Aesir. We are fortunate that I did.”

Býleistr released him then and stalked away. Loki sighed, massaging his neck. Brothers had such a regrettable tendency to manhandling. A pity that he couldn’t have had sisters instead.

As Loki returned to the palace, he wondered idly why he persisted in thinking of the Jotnar as males with the capacity to bear children rather than as females with the capacity to sire them, or as a different category altogether, which would have been more accurate. Probably because he had believed himself to be only male until three years ago, when his true species and intersex nature had been revealed to him. 

The first time he had witnessed that change in his most intimate nature, he had been repulsed. As with everything else about his Jotun form, the only aspect of it which still troubled him was that it proved that he was not the son of Odin. He had always been so proud of that. Even to be the younger and less-favored son of so great a king was a great honor. So he had believed.

He pushed those thoughts back into their box. Right now all of his attention was needed on the next step of his plan. 

The moment Loki entered the guest chamber, Thor went to him and put his arms around him. “Loki, are you all right?”

Loki let his forehead fall onto Thor’s shoulder, careful not to let his horns hit his brother. “I thought I had found a way to revive the forests with magic. I hadn’t.”

“You will. You’ve always been so clever, Loki. You’ll find a way.”

Loki found the hard muscles circling him more reassuring than the words. Big brothers were comforting creatures at moments like this. Especially if they happened to have ridiculously powerful physiques and fearsome prowess as fighters.

Doting royal fathers came in handy too.

“Thor,” Loki whispered. “Make love to me.”

Thor was a little surprised at the phrasing, as Loki had known he would be, but he kissed Loki softly. “Whatever you want, Loki.”

Thor’s touch was so gentle Loki almost broke down again. He pulled Thor’s clothes off, fumbling in his hurry. The usual fire between them was not igniting. They were both too unhappy. Loki had to awaken it, his plans depended upon it. His realm might depend upon it.

Loki did not need to desire it. It was enough if Thor did.

Loki knew Thor’s body well. He was able to rouse it.

Thor had been careful where he touched Loki, waiting for signs. Unable to put it off longer, Loki met Thor’s gaze. “You said - you said you didn’t care.”

Thor looked back at him, very serious. “I don’t. I want you, Loki. Just as I always have.” 

Loki drew a deep breath. 

“Loki, you need not if it still troubles you. But I am not troubled.”

“I want this. It’s just… difficult.” Before he could have more second thoughts, Loki pulled off his kilt.

Thor very gently pressed him back onto the bed. He captured Loki’s mouth while slowly moving his hand from Loki’s knee, up Loki’s thigh. Loki curled his hands into fists.

“Loki….”

Thor’s eyes, the blue of Asgard’s sky in the summer, were full of concern.

“It’s all right,” Loki assured him. When Thor only looked doubtful, Loki kissed him fiercely.

“Would you rather blow out the lights?”

Loki felt that he should be brave. If Thor _saw_ and still wanted him, it would be a balm to so many wounds. But there was more at stake here than his own feelings. He waved a hand and the room turned dark.

He felt Thor’s large, warm hand still on his thigh, unmoving. “Thor,” he whispered, “I need you.”

At that, Thor’s hand finally moved, stroking Loki’s half-hard prick, moving slowly past it, finding his quim. After a moment the movement of Thor’s fingers became practiced. Loki supposed this was what he did with women. The sensation was pleasant, but still Loki’s passion was dormant.

Loki tried to think of their most heated times together. He tried to summon the raging lust that had driven him into his brother’s arms over and over. He needed that lust now. He needed Thor to take him in the one way he had not yet. He was aiming for the grandest of prizes.

A single heir to both thrones. A Jotun prince who was truly of Odin’s own blood. Odin valued his own bloodline if he valued nothing else. Even Odin would hesitate to make war on a realm that was to be ruled by his own grandson.

And one day Loki would explain to his son that he had hoped to unite the kingdoms and bring about permanent peace through him. That he owed his existence to his usefulness against an enemy.

Loki sat up, gripping Thor’s wrist. “Thor, I can’t.” When Thor only waited, patient, he added an embarrassed, “I’m sorry.”

Thor kissed him. “There is no need to apologize. I told you, whatever you want.”

Loki gently pushed Thor onto his back, and Thor made no resistance. With his mouth Loki satisfied the desire he had managed to awaken, while Thor carded his fingers through Loki’s black hair and stroked Loki’s horns and allowed himself to be satisfied.

When he had finished, Loki curled up against Thor as he had for the last few nights, letting Thor embrace him. Thor asked softly, “Shall I return the favor?”

“I don’t need pleasure tonight. I need… _contact._ Just hold me.”

Thor did, stroking Loki’s cold skin, kissing his forehead, cradling him close.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have started this.”

But Thor did not know what Loki had been intending to do, and so he said, “It’s all right, Loki.”

“Thor, please promise me.”

“What?”

“Never use any child of yours the way your father used me.”

Thor’s arms tightened around him. “I promise.”

But it was Loki who was making that promise to himself. To whatever sons would one day spring from his loins, or grow in his belly. He would make a thousand mistakes with them, no doubt, but he would not make the one his own not-father had.

Kings could not help using their sons, but they still had a father’s duty to love.

There was still one part of the night’s plan that needed to be carried out. Thor was satiated and feeling protective towards him. Loki wondered if Thor could understand that Loki could use and manipulate him and love him none the less. 

“Will you do something for me, Thor?”

“If I can.”

Loki let a moment pass. “Return to Asgard. Intercede with our parents for me.”

“If you wish, but I do not know if anything I can say will change Father’s mind.”

“There is a reason I said ‘parents’. You know he’s always easier to manage when Mother’s there.”

“Are you certain I cannot help you more here?”

“You have done what you can. Father’s anger has had time to cool.” Loki lifted his head, even though it was too dark to see Thor. “Thor, what I fear is that he might not allow the Casket to come to Jotunheim for its one day out of each year. I can’t expect him to care what a hardship that would be for my subjects, but it was that promise which induced the Jotnar to accept me as their king. If they do not have at least that, why should they continue to endure my rule? And if they unseat me, Father will have far less control over Jotunheim.”

“I understand.”

“Tell him… tell him I have learned my lesson. Tell him I fear his displeasure. Tell him I will do whatever he wishes.” There. Only one lie in the bunch.

“I shall.”

 

The following morning Thor spoke to the Asgardian warriors, making it clear that any unprovoked attacks on Jotuns would result in his extreme displeasure. He then embraced Loki before them all and called him “brother”, just to make certain the Aesir understood that their prince still saw Loki thus.

Loki would have liked more of this overt loyalty before either of them had been kings, but still he was grateful for it now.

Býleistr took Thor aside for a moment to thank him for his help, in gracious terms that surprised Loki. But of course; Býleistr was wise enough to know he would need the good will of Asgard’s next king.

As his brothers spoke, Loki tried to think of some way of warning Thor about Svartalfheim’s imminent attack without giving himself away, but could see none. The loyalties instilled in him for a thousand years tore at him. _Could he really know of a threat to Asgard, even a doomed one, and not nip it in its bud?_

A yell in the courtyard startled him out of his thoughts, but when he and the others looked, it was only the playful shriek of a child being chased by another. A Jotun child newly brought to Loki’s orphanage, who had lost an arm in Asgard’s attack. The attack had swelled the ranks of his collection of imperfect children.

_Yes. Yes, he could._

“You’re brooding.” Thor’s voice cut into his thoughts. It was a familiar refrain between them. Býleistr had gone to speak to one of the palace servants, just out of their earshot.

“I’m thinking.”

“About what?”

Loki indicated the children, still watching them. “Some of them received their injuries in Asgard’s attack. Some of them were hurt before I came here, in rockslides and earthquakes, which were caused by your father taking the Casket. But if not for my command, all of them would have been left to die by the Jotnar.”

Thor looked around at them. “Small wonder you were able to promote the Jotnar from monsters to ‘people’.”

Loki nodded once. “There seems to be little distinction.”

“But _you_ commanded that these lives be preserved.”

“For the selfish reason that I too was left to die for being a runt and I could not bear to think of them being left as well.” He turned to Thor. “Thor, be vigilant. Asgard’s other enemies will imagine you are too occupied with Jotunheim to be prepared for other threats. This is exactly the sort of moment when others will strike.”

Thor nodded gravely. “You are right. I will be watchful.”

That was the most warning Loki could manage, but at least he knew that Thor’s warrior nature could be counted upon.

 

Before calling to Heimdall, Thor placed his hand on the side of Loki’s neck and spoke earnestly to him. 

“Loki. It is a long way off, but I swear to you that when I am king - truly king - I will be kinder to Jotunheim than Father has been.”

Loki quickly pulled him into another embrace - so that Thor could not see his face. “Thank you,” he whispered.

Thor was sincere, of course. Bless him for the big kind fool that he was. 

But did he really imagine that Loki would allow the current state of affairs to continue for that long?


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back in Asgard, Thor must contend with disapprobation for his service to Jotunheim.

Thor was admitted to his mother’s garden at once, but once he joined her he had little idea what to do. Loki had always been the one to spend hours with her, just sitting and talking about… whatever it was they talked about. Sorcery, perhaps. Thor loved his mother, but it was Loki who had always been _her_ boy.

She looked up from her spinning and smiled at him. He managed a smile back and sat near her.

“I asked for Father’s permission to take my regiment to the unrest in Svartalfheim,” he said after a time. “He granted it. I leave at dawn.”

“Take care, my son.” She spoke serenely as she always did, but Thor knew enough now to see the fear in her eyes. His battles must have been such an ordeal for her when he had been younger and more rash. He had never realized it.

“I will. Sif and the Three were happy to learn of it.”

“I suppose they have been bored lately.”

Thor shrugged, affecting indifference. “They have.”

“Tell me what is worrying you, Thor.”

“Nothing is-“

“Remember, you may be able to fool the rest of Asgard-“

“But never you, I know.” He smiled at her fondly. When she only watched him, waiting, he confessed, “Asgard’s estimation of me has suffered from my time in Jotunheim. They wonder if my loyalties are divided, that I would give succor to our former enemies.”

“So why did you?”

“Mother, you should have seen the change in Jotunheim! When first I went there it was desolate. Loki was able to improve it considerably, and then when I escorted the Casket for its week there - Mother, had you seen how joyful the Jotuns were to see their world coming alive again….” He shook his head. He had said all of this to his parents before, as he pleaded for more kindness to Jotunheim. He did not think he had convinced Father. He had failed Loki. “I now regret that I brought war to that world, but leaving a realm to slowly starve and die is nothing like honest combat.” He did not mention that this was precisely what Odin had done. “It does not befit warriors.”

“Say that,” she instructed. “That is something warriors will understand.”

“Father did not. While I was gone he….” Thor trailed off. He could not very well say that Father had turned Asgard against him, that bordered on treason even if it was true. It was so absurd. Thor would have to succeed him in time, what could Father hope to accomplish? “He spoke of his anger towards me. Now, even Sif and the Three seem to trust me less.”

Mother nodded, sad.

“They think me foolish to continue seeing Loki as my brother, now that he is known to be a Jotun.”

Her nimble fingers paused on the wheel. “But you do still see him that way?”

“Of course!” At the sharpness of her gaze he suddenly flushed. How she had guessed that the un-brotherly aspect of their relationship was not entirely in the past he had no idea. But she had never been as disapproving of that as Father. On a few occasions it had been she, not Father, who caught them. She had never told Father, nor punished them. Instead she had long talks with them both about it, which had made them feel guiltier than Father’s simple anger and floggings. 

At least Thor no longer felt guilty for lusting after his brother. But the love was brotherly as well, in an unlikely mix that he did not understand, but accepted.

Eager to avoid the subject, Thor went on, “My friends have little patience with me these days. Save for Hogun. I have tried to tell them that frost giants are not the monsters we always believed, but they are loath to believe me.”

“Surely after so many years together they must trust your words.”

“No. They do not.” The words stuck in his throat, but Thor forced them out. “Mother, I always thought that their loyalty was to _me_. Now it seems… it seems that their loyalty was to the glory I could offer them. And to a lesser extent, to the throne they knew I would sit on one day. Now that I am slower to give them battles, their loyalty seems to be wavering.”

Mother had now abandoned her weaving entirely to clasp Thor’s hand and give him her full attention. “Do you not trust their affection for you?”

He looked down at their hands for a moment, delaying putting words to it for just a few more moments.

“No.” The word was heavy.

She pressed his hand, saying nothing.

“I wish Loki were still here.”

“And if he were?”

“I could tell him all of this. I used to tell him everything. Even when he sometimes tricked me, or used his silver tongue to get what he wanted from me, I never doubted that he truly loved _me._ I still don’t.”

“Good.”

“And he would have some clever advice for me.”

“What do you think he would advise you to do?”

Thor tried to think. In the years since Loki had been sent away, he had often tried to guess what advice Loki would have given him had he still been at Thor’s side, but not in this matter.

“I don’t think he ever liked Sif and the Three very much,” Thor confessed. Then at Frigga’s look he felt foolish, as if he should have known that all along. Loki had tolerated them and they had tolerated Loki because that was the price of a place at Thor’s side. And Thor had been oblivious to it all. He had thought they were all friends, dismissed the flyting as sport.

Loki had been right. Thor was a fool.

Thor tried to think of them as Loki must have, all these years. Unreflective warriors caring only for fighting and hunting and the carousing after. Sharing a bond with his beloved brother that Loki never truly could, because for Loki battle was a necessity, not a joy. Useful only because they helped to keep that brother alive through one reckless fight after another.

“He would tell me to use them as they use me,” Thor said dully. “Their loyalty is to the adventure and glory I can give them, so I must give them these things. Let them come to see my sympathy for frost giants as a foible, unimportant beside the battles we fight together.”

Mother was smiling. “I think Loki would be proud of you right now.”

Thor shook his head, rueful. “I always scorned these machinations. I knew that you and Father engaged in them as much as Loki did. I thought I would not have to because unlike Loki, I have the gift of easily making myself liked.” At that she ruffled his hair, and he smoothed it down, pretending to be annoyed. “I always assumed that anything of that sort that needed doing, Loki would attend to for me. I was a fool to believe I could escape it forever. Even were he here, still I would have to think of how to secure loyalty instead of trusting in it.”

She spoke gently. “Thor, when you were banished I had words with your father about it. I told him I would not have had the heart to banish my own son. He said, ‘That is why I am king.’ He has long known what you are now learning: that sometimes a king must harden his heart to serve his people. You would like to trust in the goodwill of those around you, but you are obliged to question and doubt it.”

“Loki is better suited to a throne than I.” And then Thor was astonished at his own words.

“I am very proud to hear you say that, Thor, but it is not really true. His heart is too hard by nature. Now that he is a king he will always be in danger of it hardening too much.” She hesitated. “Your father has grown so used to hardening his heart to do what must be done that he now fails to listen to it when he should.”

These measured words were the closest Thor had ever heard Mother come to criticizing Father. Father was a king, little more was permissible. They looked at each other silently for a time.

“It isn’t only my friends. All Asgard seems to have less trust in me now. In my efforts to help Jotunheim they see disloyalty.”

“So how can you make them see your loyalty to Asgard?” Mother was doing what Loki had always done, asking him questions to try to prod him to the conclusions Loki had already drawn. It had always irritated him that his younger brother acted as if he were Thor’s tutor, even if Loki was the clever one.

“By demonstrating it. That is one reason I asked Father to let us go to Svartalfheim. Heimdall has observed them gathering an army on their moon. It seems likely they plan to engage our forces elsewhere and be ready for us when we take the battle to their world. We will go there and make it clear to them that-“

Brilliant light abruptly seared the sky. Thor frowned up at it. Usually he knew when the Bifrost was to be used. He waited a moment and the light continued to pulse.

Mother and he were both standing, watching the sky in consternation. Thor took Mjölnir from his belt. “Go inside and stay there,” he ordered, forgetting for the moment that Frigga was his mother and queen, but she did as he bid.

He spun his hammer and shot into the air.

 

Thor had never dreamed that he would see foes daring to invade the Realm Eternal itself. 

Somehow the Dark Elves had sealed the Bifrost open, uncaring that it would demolish their moon. Hundreds, maybe thousands of them streamed through.

Asgard’s warriors had come to meet them at once, of course. Not a one had yet managed to penetrate into the city itself. But there were so many of them, an unending flood.

After half an hour of fighting a pitched battle, Thor launched himself into the air again, landing at the Observatory. A few swings of his hammer cleared two dozen Dark Elves from his vicinity and he found Heimdall, lying beside the activator, unmoving in a pool of blood. A bronze contraption had been placed over the activator, sealing Heimdall’s sword into it.

The Observatory was beginning to fall apart in the maelstrom whipped up by the unleashed Bifrost. Soon even Asgard itself might be endangered by the untamed energy let loose.

Thor tried to pull the bronze off the activator, but it had been welded on. He raised his hammer to smash it loose, but the unfettered power of the Bifrost had welded the entire mass together.

Thor could see only one way to save Asgard.

He ran a few feet past the Observatory, onto the bridge. He raised Mjölnir into the air.

And brought her down.

Again he did it, and again. When the pulsing rainbow was cracking under his feet, he backed up swiftly, seized Heimdall about the ribcage, and spun Mjölnir.

He had almost cleared the city walls when the backlash from the Bifrost’s explosion buffeted them both with head-spinning force. They landed in a street in the center of the city amid stones broken by their fall.

Even for Thor, Heimdall was heavy. Thor hefted him and flew again, this time to the palace healing room.

The destruction of the Bifrost, and what to do with a few hundred enemy soldiers now trapped in Asgard, would have to be problems for later.


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What the destruction of the Bifrost means for Jotunheim.

Several days after the runt-king interrupted his conference with the Dark Elves, Býleistr noticed a flickering in the sky. He stopped and confirmed that it was the aurora which always heralded the opening of the Bifrost.

He and every other Jotun in sight all watched and made themselves ready for whatever Asgard intended to wreak upon them this time. A murderous army, a spoiled brat with a hammer, an illegitimate king, or help with the conditions the Aesir themselves had inflicted; there was no predicting it.

But the lights in the sky continued to pulsate and the Bifrost did not open. Asgard must be tormenting some other unfortunate realm for a change.

When the shimmering in the sky did not cease after several minutes, Býleistr realized that the Dark Elves were doing what his half-a-brother had mentioned. They had chosen to sacrifice their moon so that they could pour their army into Asgard. Well, so be it. Býleistr only wished he could be there to watch Asgard learning what it was to be invaded.

He was calculating what he might offer Svartalfheim to get the Casket back if it won when the lights abruptly grew even brighter, more hectic. The watching Jotnar all tensed in alarm, but nothing happened to Jotunheim. The light grew blinding and then abruptly collapsed into a vortex of black clouds.

“What does that mean?” a nearby Jotun asked aloud.

Býleistr stared at the sky. “It means that the Bifrost is destroyed.”

“Destroyed?” The Jotun, a stranger to Býleistr, turned to look at him. “Then - the Aesir can no longer come to our realm! We are free of them!”

Býleistr spoke through gritted teeth. “They have the Casket.”

He turned and went in search of his half-a-brother. Loki had not only cost them the alliance with Svartalfheim, he had now lost them even the single day out of each year with the Casket.

Loki had tried to serve Jotunheim well. Býleistr could admit that. It was impossible to serve two masters well, but he had tried. And when he had overstepped himself, Býleistr had been among those who saw his efforts to avert the All-Father’s wrath. 

But this most tragic of blunders was the last Býleistr would stand for. Defending the runt-king’s life had been necessary to protect his subjects from Asgard - _his_ subjects, not Loki’s. Now Asgard had lost the means of both reward and punishment. There was no need to spare the misbegotten bastard any longer.

Loki was nowhere to be found in the palace. The servants Býleistr questioned had no idea where he was. Perhaps the runt had guessed that he was no longer safe and had hidden. Let him try. Býleistr would find him sooner or later.

Býleistr went to the nook where he had met with the Dark Elves. Still no bastard runt half-brother.

Next Býleistr headed for the temple. It would be poetic if Loki were there. He could die in the very spot where he should have died a thousand years ago. 

But the temple was also deserted, and Býleistr headed back to the palace. The pretender to Jotunheim’s throne could not hide forever.

When the palace came into view, Býleistr stopped in surprise. It seemed every Jotun in Glæsisvellir, as well as the Aesir warriors now stranded here, had gathered in the courtyard and was looking up at the palace balcony. The one where Býleistr himself had executed the first assassin who had tried to relieve Jotunheim of Asgard’s puppet king. Perhaps Býleistr would simply do nothing the next time an assassination attempt was made. For his “failure” to save his half-a-brother he could apologize most humbly to the Odinson, it wasn’t as if begging forgiveness from Asgard would be more degradation than Jotunheim had already endured.

Right now the balcony was occupied only by two Jotun sentries. Everyone was waiting for something, speculation passing swiftly from one pair of lips to another. Býleistr waited, worrying. His apprehension did not ease when he noticed an Asgardian emerging from the palace and melting into the throng. No one else took any notice of him, but the Asgardian was finding his own people in the crowd and telling them something, and they in turn went to find others. 

Býleistr elbowed his way through to the Jotun sentries at the palace gate. “What are the Aesir doing?” he demanded.

“The king commanded that they all report to the courtyard within the palace, Your Highness.” The sentry lowered his voice. “I gather it was for their own safety.”

The Aesir were indeed making their way through the crowd and returning through the palace gate. Býleistr watched them narrowly.

When their runt king appeared on the balcony, all fell silent. 

“People of Jotunheim,” Loki began. His voice carried easily in the night air. “The Bifrost is destroyed. Dark Elves forced it open that they might invade Asgard. Odin was forced to destroy it to protect his own realm.”

Loki waited a moment for his audience to exclaim and murmur over this. When he held up a hand, once more they all quieted, waiting to hear him.

“No longer can Asgard drop warriors from the sky to attack us.” He paused. “ _We. Are. Free. Of Asgard.”_

Through the stunned silence and then the mad cheers which followed this, Býleistr clenched his fists.

Loki basked in their jubilation, smiling widely around at them all. Býleistr made his decision. He was not going to allow his half-a-brother to use this to his own advantage. 

He shoved his way to the spot directly below the balcony and summoned ice to raise himself to it. From there he stepped onto the balcony, looking down at his tiny half-sibling, letting everyone see the glaring difference between their foreign-raised viceroy and their rightful king. A pity Loki was not still wearing his foreign clothing, it would have made the contrast more vivid. But since Asgard’s latest attack, Asgard’s puppet had taken to dressing like a real Jotun. And most of the Jotnar approved, worse fools them.

Býleistr raised his hands and the Jotnar below quieted, though not as quickly or completely as they had for Loki. When he could be heard, Býleistr declared, “If Asgard cannot send warriors here, it also means it cannot send the Casket here. Not even for a single day out of each year. We are now completely bereft of it once more.”

Býleistr and Loki locked eyes as their people took in this information. Now Býleistr would claim his rightful throne, and he would find some way of easing his people’s misery. He would ally with any Dark Elf or other scoundrel, he would-

“The Bifrost is not the only way in and out of Asgard,” the runt-king declared. The triumph in his eyes alarmed Býleistr all over again. “There are secret paths between the worlds to which even Heimdall and the All-Father, with all their gifts, are blind.” Loki turned to the listening Jotnar below. “I know of these paths. And tonight, while Asgard was busy fending off Dark Elves at their gates, I used one of these paths to enter Asgard.” He raised his hands. “To enter the royal weapons vault.”

Loki twirled his hands and an object materialized between them, and at that moment Loki sealed forever his claim to the throne of Jotunheim.

Because the object was the Casket.

The cheer that rose up seemed to shake the very ground beneath them. And the joy swelling in the crowd below was mirrored in Loki’s face. 

Býleistr knew that he was witnessing the happiest moment of his half-brother’s life.

It was several minutes before even Loki could quiet the crowd enough to shout, “The Casket is _ours_ once more. Ours always, not for one day of each year. Ours to maintain and defend our realm. And never again will we allow it to be taken from us!”

Even Býleistr could not help the tears of relief which welled up in his eyes. No more landslides or earthquakes. No more starvation. No more fear of Asgard. _Life._ Life for Jotunheim. 

When this round of cheers finally lulled, Loki called out, “I will not rest until every mile of Jotunheim has been awakened by the Casket and restored to all its glory. I will start this very night. But first, I will send Asgard’s warriors back where they belong!”

That met with great approval, and Býleistr saw why Loki had ordered the Aesir inside the palace walls. The crowd might well have torn them limb from limb. Loki held up the Casket for one more round of exultation before turning and going inside, heading for the palace courtyard, where a hundred nervous Asgardians awaited him.

“Take a message to your king,” Loki said to their captain. “We Jotnar will not seek to conquer other realms. We wish only to be left in peace to repair our own. But we will defend ourselves fiercely if we are attacked. And no misplaced familial sentiment will stop me.”

Býleistr had seen Loki with his foster brother and did not for one moment believe Loki would fight the man. Thankfully, he also did not believe that the Odinson would fight Loki. Between those two, there might indeed be hope for peace between the realms.

Býleistr watched Loki use the Casket to send the Aesir back to their home and listened to the celebration already erupting outside. He and his half-brother had arduous weeks ahead of them, taking the Casket throughout the realm. Regardless of his puny size and his foreign rearing, Loki had now secured his place in the hearts of the Jotnar - and on the throne. All because of a magic trick, walking the skies to pass from one world to the next without a relic like the Casket or the Bifrost. 

Býleistr himself would have been as whole-heartedly joyful as any other Jotun on this day, and as grateful to Loki. He _was_ joyful. He _was_ , in fact, grateful. He would have gladly renounced his now moot claim to the throne, were it not for one thing.

Býleistr was the only Jotun still living who remembered that three Jotuns had been smuggled into Asgard when the Odinson was about to be made king. Smuggled into a trap, where they had been killed with the Casket still in Odin’s possession. Laufey had not known the identity of the Asgardian who had shown those three the secret path, and so retribution had been impossible.

But now, Býleistr knew exactly who had done it. And thus, who had started a new war between their realms and fresh oppression for the Jotnar.

Býleistr, if no other, knew why Loki should be toppled from his throne.


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Odin demands the return of the Casket.

Only a few days had passed since Loki had retrieved the Casket from Asgard’s weapons vault. Had he known all of his years as a prince of Asgard how easy the feat would be for one who could find the secret paths between the worlds, he would have been terrified all of his life that enemies would empty the vault and destroy Asgard. Thankfully, the secret paths were indeed secret. Even Odin and Heimdall had never found them.

Loki had first revitalized Glæsisvellir, the capital city. He had not ceased to wield the Casket until exhaustion forced him to sleep, and then Býleistr had taken it to wield as Loki rested. Even in his fatigue Loki had known that it would be wiser to keep that prerogative for himself alone, but he could not harden his heart that much. After so many centuries of misery, no inch of Jotunheim should have to wait one more moment than necessary to feel the Casket’s quickening breath. 

Just now, Jotunheim loved Loki. Býleistr could not usurp him now, whether he was allowed to use the Casket or not. That was one worry Loki could defer to the future.

With Glæsisvellir restored, Loki began a tour of the entire realm, accompanied by Býleistr and a large retinue of warriors and courtiers. Their progress was slow, as there was no spot that did not need the Casket’s touch. Loki decreed that they would visit the cities first and afterwards cover all the ground between. He spent every waking moment wielding the Casket, and his half-brother wielded it as he slept.

One day, Loki awakened in the chambers prepared for him in the castle of the reigning lord of Utgard to find his foster father standing beside the bed.

It took Loki a shocked moment to awaken enough to realize that Odin was projecting an image of himself, that he was not actually on Jotunheim.

Odin began by commanding Loki to return the Casket, _at once._ Centuries of willing obedience made Loki’s voice shake, but his resolve was steady.

It was almost funny, how shocked Odin was when Loki had told him “No.” At first he was not even able to find words, so flummoxed was he. He invoked Loki’s duty as a son, as a vassal king. Loki did not even trouble to dispute these designations. Instead he pointed out what Odin must have hoped he had not noticed: that Odin now had no means of enforcing his will.

“Or what?” Loki drawled. “Shall I report to the training yard and request forty lashes?” 

Next came the appeal to reason. Odin talked to him, man to man, about how terribly warlike the Jotnar were. He talked of the havoc Jotunheim had wreaked on Midgard and other worlds a thousand years ago, how many they had killed. This had led to a shouting match that lasted over an hour, Loki throwing all of Asgard’s tyranny into its king’s face.

The fact was, Loki himself was worried that with the Casket back, Jotunheim might embark on a new era of conquest. But it would not do so while he was on its throne, and he no longer believed that the Jotnar were any more savage than any other sentient race in the Nine Realms. They were no more savage than Aesir or humans or elves.

Which was to say, they were very savage indeed.

Finally came the moment Loki had been dreading, when Odin yet again offered his fatherly affection in return for Loki’s obedience. Not that it was phrased so blatantly, but that was what was being promised. It was the same implied promise that Odin had used to induce Loki to take the throne of Jotunheim to begin with. And as every time before, Loki had kept his end of the bargain and Odin had not.

For a thousand years Loki had never failed to rise to this bait, and for a thousand years the offer had proven false every time. Even now, the appeal tugged at Loki with shocking strength, the bottomless yearning as powerful as when he had been a still-hopeful adolescent. 

Refusing was not enough. Loki had to tell his not-father _why_ , each word opening a fresh wound in his own soul. It was the sort of quarrel most people had with their parents in adolescence, but if one’s father was the most powerful king and sorcerer in the known universe, the awe was rather difficult to overcome.

Now after too many centuries of being bottled up, every grievance and heartbreak poured out in a torrent. The proud wish not to weep was soon swept away and Loki’s tears poured freely as he hurled every pained accusation at his false father. _Why_ had nothing he did ever been enough, he would have settled for the tiniest fraction of the love that was lavished upon Thor, what more could he have _done_ , why couldn’t Odin at least have told him what he was so that he would have understood from the start that nothing Loki could have done would ever have won his not-father’s affection, was control of Jotunheim really so important that Odin had to break an innocent child’s heart for it, _why hadn’t Odin told him what he was?_

“And when should I have told you?” Odin snapped. He started to say more, but Loki cut in.

“Maybe when my brother and I started fucking. That would have been a good time.”

Odin’s face turned very red. Rather than stay and listen to a fresh round of accusations about how Loki had sullied his otherwise blameless foster brother with his perverse desires, Loki simply left the bedchamber, leaving Odin’s projection behind. Even that action had his hands shaking; to leave the king’s presence without being dismissed was a grave breach of etiquette indeed, a slight Odin would never have forgiven anyone. The consequences to his own sons would not have borne contemplating. 

The sentries outside his door were surprised to see their king emerging from the bedchamber so late; that Loki was trembling and his face tear-stained startled them more. “I require another room,” he ordered. “And privacy.”

The sentries apologized for the comparative plainness of the room they showed him to, and for the fact that the furniture therein was intended for normally sized Jotuns, but he waved them away. “It will suffice. I am not to be disturbed.” He paused before the door to cast the spell he used to conceal himself from Heimdall and Hlidskjalf. His not-father could not haunt him again if he could not see him.

Alone again, Loki curled up on the floor, shivering. The enormous furniture only intensified the feeling of being thrust back into childhood, living in a world that was too large for him and desperate for his father’s affection.

_You are over a thousand years old,_ he told himself. _You are a king. Contain yourself!_

He could not.

Never in his life had he even imagined speaking to his father as he had today. In all of his wistful daydreams he had been respectful and dutiful, and Father (not Father) finally, finally seeing this, finally rejoicing that _both_ his sons were worthy of him.

With the attack on Jotunheim Odin had completely destroyed the admiration, the awe Loki had felt for him all of his life. Loki marveled that he had been able to remain so blind for so many centuries. He now saw his foster father with clear eyes, and what he saw was a grasping, cruel man, able to kill the innocent and break hearts to hold on to his own power.

His heart, apparently, had not yet received the news.

 

It was early afternoon when Býleistr demanded entry. By then Loki had washed his face and fortified himself with an entire flagon of Jotunheim’s sweet, heavy wine.

“Forgive me, half-brother,” Loki said. “You must be weary. Rest, I shall take up the Casket.” In fact, Loki would have preferred to hide in this room for days, much as he had after first learning he was a frost giant, but his subjects needed him.

Býleistr placed the relic on the barren room’s sole table. “Are you ill, half-brother?”

Loki would never trust Býleistr the way he trusted Thor, but a prince of this realm was entitled to know what had occurred. “Odin spoke to me this morning. He sent a magical image of himself to demand the Casket’s return.”

Býleistr automatically put a defensive hand on the Casket. “And do you intend to give it to him?”

Loki looked up at the other, incredulous. “Never!”

Of course. Býleistr knew so little of Loki. To him Loki was still the interloper with divided loyalties. Loki summoned ice to raise himself to one of the chairs and gestured to Býleistr to take another.

“I have no more loyalty to Asgard, Býleistr. I belong to Jotunheim now. With the Casket here and the Bifrost destroyed, Asgard has no means of controlling Jotunheim or me any longer.”

“And no means of propping you on our throne.”

Loki held his gaze. “True. I must now hold my throne without Asgard’s help.”

Býleistr seemed to consider his words carefully before speaking. “Would that your foster brother had heeded you when you urged him not to come here the day he was to be made king.”

The words were sharp. Loki felt a pang of guilt, remembering his own part in that day. “It would have made no difference. Thor was rash and hotheaded then. Had those three Jotuns not entered the vault and interrupted his coronation, he still would have started a war before he had been on the throne a week. He longed for battle. I tried to tell his father this, but now I see that Thor’s recklessness was part of Odin’s plan. While Odin slept Thor would have waged war with Jotunheim. When Odin awakened, he would have put an end to the war, blaming Thor for everything, and installed me on the Jotun throne. The attempt at reclaiming the Casket made little difference.”

Býleistr mulled this over for a long moment. “War would have come to Jotunheim regardless.”

“Yes.”

“ _You_ would have come to Jotunheim regardless.”

Loki met Býleistr’s eyes steadily. “Are you going to try to wrest the throne from me, Býleistr?”

“It is mine by right of succession!”

“And mine by right of possession.”

For a thousand years Loki had been a prince and felt no desire to be a king. Now, even as a vassal king of a hostile land, he had had a taste of kingship. He knew what it was not to have to resort to manipulation and trickery to get what he wanted, but instead to simply say, “Do this,” and it was done. It was an exhilarating freedom. 

Now he was truly king. He would not yield his throne unless he was forced to.

Býleistr would serve Jotunheim well, Loki had no doubt. But Loki could serve it better.

Býleistr looked at him coldly for a long minute before answering. “Jotunheim has suffered enough. I will not see it torn asunder between us.” He leaned closer. “For so long as your rule is good for Jotunheim.”

Loki inclined his head, acknowledging both the sacrifice and the warning.

“Odin will not relinquish his hold so easily. He will try to conquer Jotunheim again.”

Loki nodded. “He will. But by the time he is ready to try, Jotunheim will be too strong for him.”

“Do you intend to build an empire, as Laufey tried to?”

“Is that what you want for Jotunheim?”

“No.” Býleistr tone was emphatic. “Some Jotuns will wish for it, I believe. But we have no need of conquest. And the realms will remember our actions of a millennium ago and unite against us with fury. The realm suffered greatly for Laufey’s vanity. I believe that most of us have had enough.”

“Good. Because instead of invading and conquering, I mean to make alliances with as many other realms as possible. But first, we must finish restoring Jotunheim.” Loki lifted the Casket and conjured ice to carry him back to the ground. “We will discuss our plans in detail later, half-brother. But for now, you need to sleep and I must wield the Casket.”

If Loki wished, he could of course keep his scheme entirely to himself, but Býleistr deserved to be a part of it. 


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jotunheim enters into diplomatic relations with other realms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this update took so much longer. The RL monster attacked. But interviews related to the upcoming Loki movie were published in the last couple of days and it evoked enough feelz that I had to hit the keyboard again.

Loki was a better king for Jotunheim than Býleistr would have been. Býleistr could admit it now, at least to himself. His hopes of retrieving the Casket had revolved around desperate alliances with untrustworthy adventurers. Because Loki was a sorcerer and knew Asgard intimately, he had been able to retrieve it where Býleistr almost certainly would have failed.

Now, as Jotunheim entered into diplomacy with other realms, King Loki was dealing with people he knew well. For centuries he had served Asgard as prince and ambassador. He knew almost every monarch in the Nine Realms - save for those of Midgard, which at Asgard’s decree had been left strictly alone for centuries now. Except for occasional visits from Alfheim through the portals between their world and Midgard, but Alfheim was powerful enough that it need not follow Asgard’s every ruling without question. And even they had lost interest in recent years. The nobles and ambassadors Loki now met with on Jotunheim’s behalf were somewhat perturbed to find that his species had changed, and understandably concerned about precisely where his loyalties lay, but they knew him and he them and it gave Jotunheim an advantage Býleistr could never have offered.

Had Laufey not allowed Jotunheim to become and remain a wasteland for the sake of his own folly, had Asgard’s wrath as well as Jotunheim’s past aggression not made the other realms hesitant to deal with Jotunheim at all, Býleistr’s life might have been similar to Loki’s. He might have spent his princely years as a diplomat, learning about the other cultures of the realms, receiving a genuine education instead of the spotty one his barren kingdom had allowed. When Laufey had died and Býleistr ascended to the throne, he could have forged alliances with the kings and queens of other realms. As it was, through no fault of his own he was not half so well suited to the throne as his half-brother.

Nor could Býleistr have handled the verbal fencing diplomacy required as Loki did. He demanded to accompany Loki on his diplomatic visits to other realms. To his surprise, Loki agreed at once. Býleistr had been prepared to argue and threaten, so this easy acquiescence rendered him unable to protest when Loki tutored him in how to behave.

That was another surprise. Loki did not instruct him to eat cooked meat such as warmbloods liked, or to cover his entire body in the sweltering heat of other realms. No, everywhere they went Loki wore his kilt and little else and tranquilly insisted upon being served raw meat and sweet foods. Nor did Loki burden him with elaborate rules of foreign etiquette, though he knew them all. “We are royalty. We have no need to follow the codes of others.” 

Rather, Loki’s instructions were things like, “They will test us at first by being insulting. Do not lose your temper or threaten them, however vile their words.” Býleistr found this very difficult at first. Warmbloods expressed very vulgar interest in the hermaphroditic nature of frost giants, for example. They sneered and jested, but late in the evening both men and women would proposition Loki - who invariably declined. Býleistr felt certain that only his size protected him from similar importunities. Foreign monarchs and diplomats frequently made outrageous demands. The king of Alfheim started by offering Loki generous compensation for a few dozen Jotun slaves to be used in the colder region of their realm. Býleistr would have roared his fury at the offer, possibly even killed the king on the spot. Loki had laughed in the man’s face, his disdain for the offer making clear at once that no Jotuns would be sold as slaves in foreign realms better than Býleistr’s fury would have.

Loki’s other rule was not to dispute with him in the hearing of outsiders. “We _must_ present a united front. Whatever I say to them, do not argue with me at foreign courts. When we are out of their hearing I will happily listen to your counsel.” Which he did. More often than not it turned out that whatever Býleistr had intended to object to was only a bluff, and Loki’s real objectives emerged in time.

Before they opened talks with a new realm, Loki and Býleistr would discuss what they wanted from that realm and what they were willing to give in return for it. Then when the talks began, Loki would open with requests completely different from those agreed upon. Time and again Býleistr watched in amazement as Loki led a monarch or ambassador through a maze of words until the foreigner offered Loki precisely what he had wanted, said foreigner believing that it was his own idea and to his own realm’s benefit.

“You can talk people into anything, half-a-brother,” Býleistr marveled one evening after Loki had elicited a dazzling trade agreement from the ambassador of Vanaheim. The insult had become a term almost of affection by now.

Loki chuckled, not happily. “In Asgard they used to call me Silvertongue.”

“I can see why.”

And so alliances were forged. Jotunheim and Muspelheim agreed to stand together against enemies of either realm; as their king, Surtr, pointed out, their realms could trust each other as no others could, as frost giants and fire giants found each other’s realms uninhabitable. Even the meeting of their kings had to occur on Vanaheim. Trade agreements with Vanaheim and Nidavellir were made. Loki would have liked to make trade agreements with other realms, but Jotunheim had no industry to speak of and only one resource of interest to the other realms - numerous types of ore beneath the huge planet’s icy crust. Býleistr reflected that Loki betrayed his Asgardian perspective in his wish to see that changed. Beings who were all but invulnerable to the elements and could summon ice at will to serve as furniture or weapons had little need of craftsmanship, and their king was likely to be frustrated in these aspirations.

Alfheim tried to broker a marriage between Loki and one of its princesses, a flame-haired lady named Coselli who was considered beautiful by the warmbloods. Loki seemed quite wounded when the princess had flatly and publicly refused to marry a frost giant, especially by her pointed remarks about how unpleasant intercourse would be with such a cold partner. Alfheim showered Loki with magical baubles in apology for the insult.

“Long have I imagined a union between myself and the fair Princess Coselli,” Loki said mournfully to Býleistr that night, in privacy. Then he doubled over laughing. “I overheard her father saying that if she would not have me, he was going to foist her onto Algrim of Svartalfheim.” Algrim had succeeded Malekith as king of that realm after Malekith's death invading Asgard. “It is a grim fate even for a Dark Elf.”

The evils of Laufey’s reign lived on, Býleistr found. There were many outside Jotunheim who still regarded the Jotnar as a race of monsters. Some hoped to take advantage of this. More than once, late at night in a dimly lit chamber some king or general would offer Jotunheim partnership in conquering Asgard. All the realms knew how Odin had betrayed his foster son and his vassal kingdom. They assumed that Loki wanted revenge. But Loki was steadfast in refusing. “My realm has not fully recovered from its war with Asgard a thousand years ago, we hardly need another.”

“This may be unwise,” Býleistr warned Loki one night, in the privacy of Loki’s study in the palace. “We Jotnar are a warlike people.”

“Of course we are. All people are warlike.” 

“And many of us wish for revenge for the past thousand years.”

“I know. Do you think Jotunheim can be persuaded to engage in wars opposing those with ambitions of empire building, instead of wars of conquest of our own?”

Býleistr considered. “Perhaps. If the people can be persuaded that it serves their own interests. Or if it can be presented as vengeance upon Asgard. I can understand that you are reluctant to war against the kingdom your beloved brother will inherit, but some other path to retribution might be found.”

“I hope you aren’t going to suggest invading Midgard.”

“No. Even the elves have abandoned that wretched place. But for thousands of years Asgard has seen itself as the peacekeeper between the Nine Realms.” Býleistr could not restrain a snarl at the bloody cost that “peace” had often extracted, and not from Asgard. “If we were to claim this role for ourselves while the Aesir are trapped on their own world, Asgard’s helpless wrath could be most gratifying.”

Loki lifted his brows, thoughtful. “Do you not fear we would be as oppressive as the Aesir?”

“I think it could be our pride not to be.”

Loki laced his fingers together, then unlaced them. “Let us discuss this with the realm’s most accomplished warriors. See if they would be receptive to such a plan. And if they think our people would be willing to fight for peace rather than conquest.”

 _Our_ people. Býleistr approved that Loki said this, but he also knew that Loki would never truly be Jotun. Loki had claimed the well-being of the Jotnar as his own responsibility. He had freed Jotunheim of Asgard. He had cast off his Asgardian armor and clothing. But still, just below his Jotun surface, he remained Asgardian. All of his assumptions, his values were Asgardian. He thought like the Aesir, approached problems as they did (minus the intermittent dropping of warriors out of the sky without warning). 

But that was to Jotunheim’s advantage now. In a sense, Loki was Asgard’s gift to Jotunheim to atone for all the damage it had done.

“Do you not wish to avenge yourself upon Odin?” Býleistr asked. “The Jotnar would delight in seizing his throne for you.”

Loki laughed, shaking his head a little. “All of my life, everyone assumed that I wanted the throne of Asgard, and I never did. I don’t now.” He met Býleistr’s eyes. “And I shall have my revenge upon Odin. But it shall be a more personal vengeance.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pretty much everything I've said about the other realms is just my own speculation and will almost certainly be jossed when _Loki III_ comes out this November.


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor is charged with a mission.

Thor spent the morning sparring in the training yard, as had been his habit since childhood. Until the last few years, he had spent many afternoons doing the same, or else riding or hunting with his friends, or journeying with them to make battle. When compelled, he would sit in conference with Father and the Thing, or take his turn at sitting in judgment. Judging disputes and crimes was properly the king’s job, but even before Thor and Loki had been born Frigga had often shared the duty with her husband, and both princes had been obliged to when they had been deemed old enough. Loki had done it often, willingly. Thor had required browbeating and compulsion to sit through the tedious duty. 

Now he met with the Thing or sat in judgment several days every week, without complaint. Odin was not pleased, but he was too busy and too weary to do all of it himself, and Frigga had firmly absented herself to encourage this new side of her elder son. The distrust of Thor that the Thing had shown during his first regency was long since set aside. With each passing month their regard for him increased.

Thor often wished that Loki could see what he was doing now. His little brother would be proud of him, he felt certain. 

The morning’s training done, Thor bathed and ate. On his way to the audience chamber, a guard approached him with the message that the king demanded his presence in his private study.

Thor went at once. Admitted, he bowed, then said, “Father, I am expected to sit in judgment today-“

“Your mother has been summoned for the duty today. You have another task.”

Odin was standing at the window, looking out. His desk was cluttered with books and scrolls, which at a cursory glance appeared to be magic books, the sort of thing Loki used to read. Thor had never been able to make head or tail of such books. 

“What task, Father?”

“The mortals have retrieved the Tesseract from the ocean floor.”

Thor moved to stand at the window beside his father. “Does this mean we can use it again?”

“They have lost it again. An invader from another world came to Midgard and stole it from them as I watched from Hlidskjalf.” Odin turned from the window. “Thor, the one who stole it has only evil intentions. You must reclaim it. Or Midgard will be destroyed, and the other Nine Realms may follow.”

“How can I go to Midgard, with the Bifrost gone?” And then Thor bit his tongue. Father had not been pleased with the destruction of the Bifrost. No matter how many times Thor and Frigga pled that nothing else could have preserved Asgard from being overrun with enemies, still Odin was furious. It seemed he would almost have preferred to see his people slaughtered in the streets than lose his pathway to the realms.

Odin scowled, but did not resurrect the old argument. “I can muster dark energy enough to send you there. But this will be a perilous quest. The foe you must face is a dangerous one, and I can send only you.”

“I am not afraid, Father.”

“So be it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My idea that Tesseract was stored on Midgard so that no invader could use it as a portal into Asgard and that its being on the bottom of an Earth ocean decreased Asgard's power was inspired by the awesome blog [Worldbuilding MCU!Asgard](http://exploringmcuasgard.tumblr.com/), as are a lot of my ideas about how MCU magic works or the nature of the various realms.
> 
> Hlidskjalf is Asgard's throne in Norse mythology. From it the king can see anything that happens in the Nine Realms.


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Doors open from both sides.

“If there’s any tampering, sir, it wasn’t at this end.”

Nick Fury jerked his head to stare at Agent Barton. “From _this_ end?”

“Yeah. The cube’s a doorway to the other end of space, right? Well, doors open from both sides.”

Fury was still grappling with the implications of that statement when gleaming blue energy began to crackle around the cube. Fury and Barton had just time to step back, alarmed, before it shot a beam of blinding light across the room. For a few seconds Fury thought the cube was going to go into meltdown; the energy it threw off filled the room, forcing everyone to duck for cover and shield their faces. The very air burned for an instant, and then it all dispersed and the room was quiet.

Fury lowered his arm from his face and looked to the platform. The guards were already advancing cautiously towards it, weapons raised. 

A figure was huddled on the platform. Fury could see a pair of bare feet peeking from a robe of rough material. One hand clutched the material as if to keep it in place.

The feet and hand looked… human. Female.

“Put your hands where we can see them!” Fury ordered. If the visitor didn’t speak English, well, they’d deal with that. A second hand emerged from the folds of material, shaking. Still on guard, Fury tried for reassuring. “Cooperate and you will not be harmed.”

The figure’s head turned at last. The voluminous hood fell back enough to reveal a face. A beautiful face, smudged and dirty, with wide, terrified eyes.

Still cautious, Fury stepped forward, gentling his voice. “We won’t hurt you. Can you understand me?”

She stared at him for a long moment before answering in a whisper. “Yes.”

“What is your name?”

“Ravenna.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ravenna is the name of the queen from _Snow White and the Huntsman_. If you haven't seen it, rent it, now. Not only is it wonderful in itself, but the Huntsman is played by the same hunk who played Thor.


	28. Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "How strong is your heart?"

Fury had never been known for his patience, but he did his best to fake it as he coaxed Ravenna off of the platform and into the infirmary. A security detail waited just outside, as procedure mandated, but their visitor could scarcely be more harmless. A lone woman, human so far as they could tell, frightened, escaped from who knew what hell on the other side of the universe.

Fury left Ravenna alone with the doctor and waited right outside the door. Dr. Irvine was an older woman with three kids; if anyone could make an obvious trauma victim feel reassured, she could.

A couple of minutes later Dr. Irvine stuck her head out. “Director Fury, could you come here for a moment? Ravenna has some information you need to hear.”

For a second a trick of the light made Dr. Irvine’s eyes look blue - entirely blue, not only the irises. Ravenna was standing in front of the examination table, still swathed in that robe, watching him. Even with her face dirty and only the shapeless brown robe to wear, she was easily the most beautiful woman Fury had ever seen. Which pointed to a possible reason for whatever captivity she was fleeing, and for the fear in her eyes. He felt his eyebrows drawing together at the thought and schooled his expression. She was frightened enough. Perhaps later some retribution could be dealt out.

Dr. Irvine stood back and Fury approached Ravenna slowly, trying to appear nonthreatening. “You have some information for me?” He hoped his tone didn’t sound too overbearing. It had been a long time since Fury had felt the need to do anything but command.

She held his gaze. “You have courage.” Her voice was low and husky. “But how strong is your heart?”

Before Fury could take in her words, her hand had emerged from the folds of her robe and pressed the point of a dagger - ornately wrought, with a glowing blue gem in its blade - to his heart. She did not drive the blade into his chest, just touched it there, but Fury found that he could not move. For a moment the world seemed to turn itself upside down and inside out. 

And then everything righted itself, and Fury could see everything more clearly than ever before. His entire life, he now knew, had been leading up to this moment.

“Let’s go to my office,” he said to his queen. “The agents will be suspicious about being summoned to the infirmary. And I’ll send someone out for some better clothes for you.”

She smiled at him. He wanted nothing more.


	29. Chapter 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What Ravenna seeks comes right to her.

Within hours, every man and woman in the SHIELD installation was in Ravenna’s thrall. Director Fury gave her the information she needed to plan how to bring this world to its knees. It was a large world. Full of future subjects. A world of plenty. Her new minions did not even have to search for things; she gave commands and within the hour they brought whatever she required to her.

This world might take her decades to exhaust.

Once everyone was enthralled, Ravenna stayed before the Tesseract, contemplating it. The human sorcerers, if they even deserved such a title with such small power, told her all they had learned of it. They had scarcely begun to grasp its true nature and power. The Tesseract was the greatest prize she had ever found in all the worlds she had conquered, in all the lifetimes she had lived. 

The only thing she could not have in a trice was the materials for creating a Tesseract portal large enough to bring in her army. The one called Selvig assured her that the iridium and other elements needed would be brought to her the very next day; iridium was oddly rare on this otherwise abundant world, and supplies of it closely guarded. To snatch it would be to arouse suspicion. She forced herself to patience.

At least Selvig was more prompt about summoning the remaining sorcerers who had studied her Tesseract. She prowled back and forth in front of it, wishing for her mirror. Her brother would bring it to her when she opened the portal. Being without him, without it, was a torment.

But she had much to comfort her. Fine clothes had been brought. Grand gowns and jewels, though for now she had accepted Fury’s advice to don the severely tailored garment this world called a “business suit”. He assured her that the one brought to her was the finest this world had to offer. A table of beautifully polished red-hued wood had been brought and was now laden with this world’s delicacies. She stopped, now and then, to nibble one or another of them. Most of this food would be thrown away. She and Finn had once scavenged for scraps of food. The memory gave her a keen pleasure in wasting it now.

“Ma’am?” It was Selvig, beaming with pride. “This is Dr. Jane Foster. It was her work - the Foster Theory - that guided my research on the cube.”

Ravenna turned. Selvig had one hand on Foster’s shoulder, a fatherly gesture. Her own father had looked at her that way, touched her that way, before the invaders had killed him. And killed her mother, and dragged Finn away to labor in the fields while she was taken to the king’s chambers and-

Jane Foster was beautiful. Young. Her dark eyes were bemused. Whatever Selvig had told her to lure her here had not satisfied her doubts. The girl spoke without waiting for Ravenna to acknowledge her. “Erik said you had new data about the cube?”

Jane’s skin was clear and taut. Her clothes were drab and mannish, her dark hair loose and unstyled. She cared nothing for the beauty nature had gifted her with. _Nothing._

“Leave us!” Ravenna ordered. Jane’s eyes widened and she watched Selvig and everyone else in the room obey in disbelief. They were still untrained; they _walked_ instead of running at her word. _“Out!”_ Ravenna shrieked, and Jane goggled at everyone’s swiftly retreating backs. Then she looked at Ravenna as if she were mad.

“Who the hell do you think you are? You can’t talk to people like that!”

The corners of Ravenna’s mouth quirked up. Jane had fight in her. Finn would have liked this one. Pity.

“You are beautiful.”

Jane just stared, incredulous. Poor foolish girl. She had no idea who she was dealing with. When she looked as if she were about to speak again - something impertinent, no doubt - Ravenna stepped closer, looking down at her. Jane tried to take a step back but Ravenna seized her chin.

“When a woman is young and beautiful, the world is hers,” Ravenna said.

Jane was struggling, confused when she found that she could not break free. “Hey, what do you think you’re-“

Ravenna shook her. “You don’t even know the power you wield.” Her voice lowered to a hiss. “You won’t until you lose it.” 

“Let me go!”

Ravenna’s voice trembled with anger. “You don’t even realize how lucky you are never to know what it is to grow old!”

And Ravenna opened her mouth, and drew Jane’s youth and beauty into herself, watching the foolish girl grow old before her eyes. Jane’s life coursed through Ravenna’s veins, invigorating her, giving her strength. When Jane was grey and shriveled, Ravenna let her fall to the floor.

“Fury!”

It took him only a few seconds to appear. He looked surprised to see Jane transformed into an old woman, groaning with pain and shock, but when Ravenna ordered, “Take her away. Lock her up somewhere,” he merely nodded and pulled Jane to her feet. Best to get the girl hidden before Selvig returned, despite the power of the gem in her dagger. In a few days, no one in this world would dare defy her. Until then, she would force herself to be cautious.

With the girl out of the way, Ravenna allowed the others to return to the chamber. Selvig was easily fobbed off with an excuse about his protégée’s whereabouts and he happily resumed his work on the portal. Fury suggested they take a few operatives into his office to discuss the Avengers Initiative, but she could not leave the Tesseract. Merely being in its presence reassured her. So he, Clint Barton and two others stood at attention before her, telling her all they knew about the prospective Avengers.

They would have to be dealt with. Swiftly. Before the portal was opened and this world found out that it had a new queen.

“They could be useful to you, once they’ve seen you for what you are,” Fury was saying. “Rogers will report if I order it. Romanoff takes orders from me, but right now she’s in deep cover in Russia - far away from here. Stark we’ll have to lure, he’s cagey. Banner you definitely need on your side, because I’m not sure he can be killed. You could be the best thing that’s happened to him since his accident.”

Ravenna paced back and forth, nodding impatiently at Fury’s suggestion. If any of the so-called Avengers evaded her grasp, they would serve her just as well in defeat at her hands.

The communications device on Fury’s belt crackled. He looked to her before reaching for it and she waved her permission. “Fury here.”

“Sir, there’s someone at the entrance trying to break in. He has some kind of weapon that’s actually denting the steel.”

“I copy.” Fury looked at her. “Ma’am, we’ve got to see what’s going on. We can see the security footage through there.” He indicated one of the doors. Reluctantly she passed a hand over the Tesseract, feeling the glow of its power, before leading the way through the door into a room with a long table and an array of screens covering one wall. “Saunders, get the footage up for us.”

After a moment, from several angles they could see the massive steel door of the installation being attacked by a lone warrior armed only with a huge mallet. A heavily muscled man with long hair as golden as Ravenna’s, wearing armor and a flowing red cape.

“It’s Thor!” Selvig blurted.

She pinned him with her gaze. “Who?”

“I told you!” Selvig said to Fury, gleeful. “He really is the god of thunder!”

Ravenna seized his face, digging her nails in to seize his attention. “He is a god?” 

“The Norse god of thunder! I grew up hearing the stories and then he fell out of the sky, at first I thought he was crazy talking about Mjölnir and Asgard and the-“

She shoved him away roughly and looked back to the screens. “An Asgardian.” Even in the far-off realms she had come from, there had been legends and stories of Asgard.

Slowly she smiled. This was the opportunity she had long awaited.

“Open the door and let him in.” 


	30. Chapter 30

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Never underestimate a geek.

For a little while after being shut in the supply room, Jane Foster simply sat on the floor, shuddering. There was no mirror but her hands were wrinkled and liver-spotted and she ached with every move. 

Even amid the shock and fear, her brain was automatically dissecting what had been done to her. The blonde woman’s face had shown a very faint tracing of wrinkles before she had… done whatever she did to Jane, which had disappeared after she sucked Jane’s life away. Nothing in human science allowed Jane to even form a hypothesis about how this worked.

 _I’m 32 and I’m an old woman,_ Jane thought. _I’m going to die soon._

The thought didn’t seem quite real. She felt only numb.

It wasn’t long before she recovered enough from the shock to push herself painfully to her feet and look around the small room. In any movie there would have been a vent she could have wriggled into, but apparently OSHA wasn’t enforcing movie clichés. Nor were there any windows she might hope to escape through. 

If she could get into some other room, maybe, just maybe, there would be some means of escape. Or of contacting someone outside the installation.

She opened the door to her prison and the security guard stationed in the hallway turned to her immediately. “Keep that door closed.” His tone was belligerent and Jane felt her hackles rise.

“I have to go to the bathroom!”

“There’s probably a bucket in the janitor’s closet. Now get back inside.”

Jane slammed the door and fumed for a moment before starting to methodically search the room.

Shelves and shelves of printer paper, manila folders, envelopes, boxes of pens and staples. A couple of cases of soda and of little bags of chips. Nothing useful. No computer or cell phone with which to call for help or even electronics she might have managed to cannibalize into something useful.

At the back of the small room was a closet full of cleaning supplies. Mops, brooms. Assorted cleaning fluids. Drano.

Jane whirled to go back to the cases of soda, swearing at the unaccustomed pain in her back at the abrupt movement. She grabbed a can of diet Coke, emptied it into the mop pail, and gouged the can to ragged strips of aluminum with one of the pens. It was messy work and she cut her fingers a couple of times, but continued until it was reduced to small pieces.

Drawing a deep breath, she crammed the strips of aluminum into the bottle of Drano as quickly as she could despite her shaking arthritic fingers, screwed the top back on, shook it vigorously - and opened the door and tossed it into the hallway.

She slammed the door shut again, locked it, and huddled far away from the door to wait.

It didn’t take long. Less than a minute and there was a nice loud _pop_. When she peeked out, the guard was lying on the ground, groaning. There were angry red sores all over him. Her stomach lurched - she had never been a violent person - but she stepped out and, with the nice hard wooden handle of one of the brooms from the closet, knocked his walkie-talkie out of his hand. Then she spoke very firmly.

“ _You_ have second-degree chemical burns. _I_ am a doctor.” That her doctorate was in astrophysics was not, in her opinion, information that this guy needed. “If you wait for your colleagues to get you to a hospital, the damage will already be irreversible. If you let me treat them now, you’ll be all right.”

Reluctantly, he agreed. Jane felt a twinge of conscience - he was clearly in too much pain to argue - but that’s what he got for locking a geek up with a bunch of chemicals.

“Where can I find a first-aid kit?” Hopefully she could bluff her way through this. She had taken first aid in high school, after all. On the other hand, she had no clue what the difference between first, second and third degree burns were, or anything.

“Th-there’s one in the men’s room.” He pointed with a shaky hand. 

“Good, let’s go.” She started off in that direction, making herself exude a confidence she was far from feeling. Normally she would at least have helped the guy up, but hey, she was an arthritic old woman. He could stand up himself.

There was no one in the men’s room. She took the first aid kit in its metal case down from its rack and rummaged through it, wishing her hands wouldn’t shake so much. “Sit down, you’re too tall for me to reach your face,” she ordered as if absently, her eyes still on the first aid kit. She had never been good at manipulating people, but she at least knew that anything she seemed to really want this guy to do, he wasn’t likely to.

He sat down on the floor since there wasn’t anywhere else, except maybe the commodes. Jane examined his injuries, trying to look at them the way she looked at star charts. Bits of the plastic Drano bottle and of the aluminum can were implanted in his flesh. It was really gross. This was why she hadn’t gone into one of the biological sciences: too much gross. “I’ll have to remove these bits of shrapnel. I’m afraid it’s going to hurt.”

“It’s okay, doc, just get them out.” His face was pale and when she briefly touched the skin near one of his wounds, it was clammy. Shock. 

She let him see her removing a pair of tweezers and a suture kit from the metal box, then handed him a wad of gauze bandages before closing it back up. “That cut on your forehead is bleeding heavily. Press this to it - not too hard. Lean your head forward a little, it’ll slow the blood flow.” He obeyed her casually voiced bullshit, giving her the opening she needed to wallop him on the back of the head with it as hard as she could. He fell over unconscious with a soft little groan.

It hurt her almost as much as it did him. Arthritis was a bitch.

Jane had never used a gun and wasn’t sure she could actually shoot someone, but then, she had never set off a Drano bomb or hit a guy in the head before either. She took the guard’s gun and searched his pockets. His walkie-talkie would just get other people inside the installation, which was no good. But in his chest pocket she found what she had hoped for: a cell phone.

She peeked cautiously out of the men’s room. The hallway was clear. Stopping only to grab the fallen walkie-talkie (just in case), Jane hurried to one of the other rooms in the corridor, choosing pretty much at random. The room she settled in proved to be a small conference room, nothing in it but a table and chairs and a whiteboard on the wall. She locked herself in, and then dialed one of the few numbers she had memorized.

Jane had been an atheist since high school. When a huge hunky blond guy who apparently wasn’t crazy had fallen out of the sky into the path of her pickup truck with a bunch of outrageous theories that, so far, her own research was verifying, she had accepted that there were more things in heaven and earth and all that. So on the off chance that Someone might hear, she prayed that the phone would be answered.

Whether due to divine intervention or not, the phone was answered on the second ring.

“Thank God. Darcy, this is really important. I need Agent Coulson’s phone number.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Drano bombs are real. The chemicals in Drano react to aluminum and go boom. Usually they're made with aluminum foil, but I couldn't think of a good reason for there to be any of that in the supply closet, so I went with a soda can. I don't know for sure if that would work, but I'm sure as hell not going to try it.
> 
> DO NOT TRY THIS AT HOME. You can get nasty burns from it, or embedded shrapnel from the bottle or the pieces of aluminum.


	31. Chapter 31

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor meets Ravenna.

The humans had learned to build very impressive fortresses. Mjölnir would pound its way into this one in time, but Thor was surprised that the mortals were able to impede him at all.

He was hefting her to strike the thick metal doors again when the doors simply opened. Thor leapt back swiftly, hammer raised, ready to smite whatever emerged.

The two uniformed mortals who had opened the door had guns on their belts, but their hands were empty. “Our commander would like to see you, sir,” one of them said.

Thor did not lower Mjölnir. “I shall wait for your commander here.”

Both mortals smiled in eerie unison but did not answer. The hairs on Thor’s arms stood on end. He wished Loki were present. Loki could have told him what sort of sorcery he was dealing with, and could have countered it.

Thor watched them, ready to defend himself. Neither human moved. They waited as motionless and serene as statues.

A door within the fortress opened, and a figure moved into view.

A queen.

The moment Thor saw her all other thoughts left him. She was clearly not human. Her form was like that of a human or Asgardian, but a power emanated from her that no mortal had ever held. Nor was she dressed in the rather drab fashion favored by Midgard these days, but in a flowing gown of gold, a crown of rubies on her proudly held head.

Her face was… _beautiful._ Nowhere in the Nine Realms had Thor seen any woman more beautiful. The perfect symmetry of her features, the graceful lines of her face. He could drown in a face that lovely. 

The queen stood safely within the fortress. Thor stood outside, in the sunlight, gazing at her.

“I am Ravenna. You are Asgardian?”

“I am Thor Odinson, prince of Asgard.” Thor had said those proud words many times. Never had he been quite so proud as he was today.

Ravenna extended her hand. Thor wanted to go to her and take it, but something in him would not allow it. He stayed where he was. At last she came to him, stepping outside the fortress, her bearing stately.

“Stories of Asgard have spread far beyond the realms Asgard rules. You, prince of Asgard, are the one who can save me.”

Thor shifted Mjölnir to his left hand that he might grasp the graceful hand she extended to him. “If I can, I am at your service, my lady.”

“I can show you wonders from beyond your realms.” Ravenna’s voice was soft, husky, promising things Thor could not name but wanted instinctively. “This magic gem, for one. Look into it and see its power.”

Obediently Thor looked at the dagger she drew. She held it lightly, as if to reassure him that she would not attempt to drive it into his heart. Embedded in its blade was a glowing blue gem. Its light reminded Thor of the Tesseract.

Even when Ravenna lightly rested the dagger’s point on Thor’s heart, he did not feel alarmed.


	32. Chapter 32

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SHIELD becomes aware that their installation has been seized.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: secondary character death.

After the point of Ravenna’s dagger had rested against Thor’s chest for a few seconds, he began to feel it. The struggle of magic fighting against magic.

He released the slim hand he was clasping so that he could seize Ravenna’s other wrist and pull the dagger away from his heart. Surprise and fury and disbelief showed in her beautiful blue eyes. And now she was not the queen destined to rule him but only a beautiful woman with a magic dagger.

“You are no sorcerer,” she hissed. “ _How?”_

He chuckled mirthlessly as he took the dagger from her. “My parents are both sorcerers. My brother is a sorcerer. I cannot do magic myself, but I have been steeped in their magic all of my life.” And a lucky thing. Without the protective spells all three had woven around him for centuries, Thor would have fallen to the gem’s power easily.

Hatred burned in her eyes, and then Thor lifted Mjölnir, because he had seen that look of concentration on the faces of sorcerers before. Nor was he mistaken, because in a moment black-clad, visored warriors had appeared out of nothing to surround him.

Thor swung his hammer and found that his attackers gave way easily. Literally; Mjölnir passed through them as through water, scattering the shards of obsidian from which they were made onto the ground. But they reconstituted themselves after a moment, and more were appearing out of nowhere as Ravenna backed slowly away. And while Thor could not damage them, the damage they inflicted was very real. Blades of black glass scored his skin, and a few moments into the melee he realized that Ravenna’s dagger had fallen from his hand. And still the phantom warriors advanced on him in wave after wave, new ones forming from the scattered fragments of those he felled. 

Thor grinned, wolfish. And smashed the phantoms to bits.

 

Coulson fully expected to arrive at the SHIELD installation to discover that everything was normal. Not that he thought Dr. Foster was pranking them, even if she was still angry about SHIELD commandeering her research. Perhaps she might have if they hadn’t eventually given it back and paid her a generous consultation fee for her help on Selvig’s work with the cube. But they had, and now she had called Coulson with an outrageous story. Foster was a brilliant scientist, but brilliant minds tended to be on the high-strung side.

On the other hand, Coulson dealt on a routine basis with legendary magical cubes that might provide unlimited energy to the world, reports of a visitor who might well be an immortal from another planet, and a supersoldier in suspended animation. Well, he sort of dealt with the supersoldier. The soldier had still been asleep. Coulson hadn’t seen him since he had been resuscitated. Not yet. Too bad, he would have handled things better when the captain woke up. How could SHIELD possibly not have known that Rogers had been to that baseball game? Coulson could have told them that. Hadn’t they read _American Legend: The Life of Steve Rogers_? Or _Stars, Stripes and Honor: An Oral History of Captain America_? Sloppy. No attention to detail.

And now Coulson was in a helicopter, en route to the installation with as many armed soldiers as would fit. Two more followed.

As they drew near, Coulson could see a disturbance in front of the entrance. Pulling out his binoculars, he determined that the disturbance was a knot of fighters in shiny black armor, fighting - with swords - against a single massive blond warrior. When the blond man turned, laughing with battle lust, Coulson became certain: this man was the alleged alien Norse god who had stayed with Jane Foster and Erik Selvig for a few weeks and told them the truth behind ancient legends. And had trespassed on SHIELD’s encampment trying to reclaim that hammer. He had failed that time, but now he held it triumphantly aloft.

Evidently he had his Asgardian-ness back.

Coulson got out his cell phone. “Hill? It’s confirmed. We’ve got a situation here.” He listened. “No, I don’t know what.”

 

The moment one of her phantom warriors put the precious dagger back into her hand, Ravenna retreated back into the fortress and waved the doors shut. “Fury!” she shouted, striding angrily to the vast room where the Tesseract was kept.

One of the guards came forward. “He’s on the phone with Agent Hill, ma’am.” At her outraged glare, he said quickly, “I’ll get him, ma’am. But if he’s talking to Hill it has to be important.”

Within the week no human would dare snub her this way. As the guard ran to summon Fury, Ravenna turned to Barton. “Send men out. We must apprehend the Asgardian. Alive.”

“I’ve encountered this guy before, ma’am. He’s no pushover. Let me go out and trank him.”

Ravenna had no idea what “tranking” was, but she waved a hand at him. “Do whatever is required to subdue him.” Her thoughts were racing. If she could not claim Asgard by her usual deception and magic, the fight would be bloody indeed. She needed to harness the Tesseract’s power first.

 

The massive doors opened and a squadron of human soldiers poured out of the SHIELD fortress, but did not engage Thor, who was still busy with the phantom warriors of black glass. A minute later he realized why; helicopters were approaching, painted the drab shade of green that Midgardians liked to use for their armies these days. Thor had learned as much from his last visit.

Stealing glances at the human soldiers as he battled, Thor saw that they were aiming their rifles at the helicopters. He decimated the nearest phantom warriors and before they could arise again or new ones could reach him, raised his hammer to summon lightning.

The lightning fused the glass which made up the phantom warriors, freezing them in place, obsidian weapons still raised. Thor grinned fiercely at the waiting human soldiers.

“Next?”

A tense moment passed before a familiar human voice sounded from the nearest helicopter.

“THOR ODINSON! THIS IS AGENT COULSON. WE ARE ON THE SAME SIDE. YOU ARE IN DANGER. PLEASE RETREAT WITH US TO STRATEGIZE.”

Danger? From mortals and warriors of glass? Thor scoffed, but then he felt a sting in one arm and glanced down to see a dart protruding from it. He pulled it out and tossed it away, then looked up. From a narrow window above him a man in a black suit with close-cropped hair had the string of an arrow pulled back. This time Thor easily deflected the arrow-dart with his hammer, but a wave of dizziness told him that the dart that had already hit him must have been poison. Not likely that a human poison could much harm him, but this trickery combined with what he had seen of the witch within the fortress convinced him that the son of Coul might be right.

Thor twirled his hammer and shot into the air, towards the helicopters. The copters changed course and flew away, Thor following.

 

Ravenna, watching the viewing screens, seized the nearest object - a metal pitcher of cold water - and hurled it at the largest screen, shattering it. _“FURY!”_ she screamed.

Fury appeared at last, not looking nearly contrite enough. 

“You said they had no way of knowing this fortress is mine now!” She paced back and forth as she spoke, jabbing an accusing finger at him. “You _swore!_ Why were they coming for us?”

Fury raised placating hands. “I was just on the phone with Agent Hill, ma’am. We have a security breach. Hill refused to tell me who - that’s procedure - but someone has revealed your presence to SHIELD personnel outside this installation. SHIELD forces were sent as part of the mandatory checkup of such reports. But I took care of it.”

She stepped closer, glaring balefully, teeth clenched. “What do you mean, you _took care of it?”_

“I ordered Agent Hill to retreat. When she refused, I explained that she and her forces would not be sufficient to take this installation from us. The fight would have needlessly killed several of our forces here, as well as more who you have not yet had the opportunity to convert. By ordering Hill to retreat, I preserved your present and future forces.”

She slammed her tiny fist into Fury’s face. “I could have converted or killed them all now! Today! Two of your best commanders would have been mine or dead! I could have had the Asgardian! He has fled!” 

She panted for a few seconds, then dug her fingernails into his chest, above his heart. “There is no loyalty here! _None!”_

Fury looked only regretful. “Ma’am-“ Abruptly he stopped. His single eye widened as his pulse accelerated madly. Ravenna watched with narrowed eyes, the others patiently. 

In less than a minute, Fury had fallen over dead.

Ravenna drew a deep breath. “Can this fortress withstand a siege?”

“No, ma’am.” It was Barton who answered. “There are emergency protocols that will cause this building to collapse, burying everyone inside under a hundred feet of rock. If they’re sufficiently alarmed, they could even drop nukes on us.”

“Nukes?”

“Nuclear bombs, ma’am, like we were debriefing you about.”

“Selvig said that it would take at least three days to build the apparatus for the portal. Can we hold them off that long?”

“No, ma’am, but if we leave here, I know of a few places we can hide while he builds it. They’ll probably try to apprehend us while we’re making our getaway. I’m afraid we’ll have to sacrifice some agents to make our escape.”

“Pack up the cube and the essential equipment and people. Then assign others to create a diversion. We are leaving immediately.”


	33. Chapter 33

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Avengers assemble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It looks like this fic is going to be about 40 chapters long in all, give or take one or two.

“I’m _working,_ ” Natasha said into the cell phone, irritated.

“This takes precedence.”

“I’m in the middle of an interrogation. This moron is giving me _everything.”_

Maria couldn’t help but grin despite the gravity of the occasion, but her amusement was fleeting. “Natasha.” She paused for a second, giving Natasha a moment to prepare herself. “Barton’s been compromised.”

There was an instant of shocked silence before Natasha said, “Let me put you on hold.”

A pity Maria couldn’t watch. Natasha beating up a few guys was a beautiful sight. To pass the time, Maria timed how long it took her to incapacitate them all.

“Where’s Barton now?”

Maria pushed the button on her stopwatch. 37 seconds. Natasha must be having an off day. “We don’t know. He and a few other key personnel absconded from the Project Pegasus installation - with the cube.”

“But he’s alive?”

“We think so. I’ll brief you on everything when you come in. But first, we have to assemble the Avengers.”

A dry chuckle. “Fury’s seizing the day?”

Again, Maria warned Natasha by waiting a second before answering. “Fury’s dead. We found his body in the installation after Barton and the others left. I’m Acting Director for now.”

Another shocked silence. “Which one do I talk to?”

“I didn’t have the heart to say no to Phil, so you have a choice: Banner or Stark.”

Natasha muttered something in Russian. “I’d better take Banner. Stark doesn’t trust me.”

 

Given the choice, Maria would have preferred to go to Banner. Getting Stark to agree to come in was about like getting a teenager to clean his room. It wasn’t until he asked, just to be difficult, where Coulson was and Maria said he was bringing in Captain America that he knuckled under. Maria wasn’t sure if he was another Cap fanboy or if he just didn’t want the world’s first superhero to steal all the glory, but he suddenly announced in a put-upon voice that he guessed they couldn’t get along without him, and then he started digging through the files on the Starkpad she’d brought him.

Back on the helicarrier, awaiting the members of the team Fury had dreamed of forming, Maria debriefed the alleged Norse god who’d joined them. Maybe not so alleged - the guy could actually summon thunder and fly, and was more powerful than a locomotive. She had seen the footage of his attempt a few years ago to take the unliftable hammer - which was now quite liftable, though only to him. Also of Coulson’s attempt to interrogate him. Thor hadn’t been willing to talk then but he was forthcoming now, telling them all he knew about the cube and what he had seen of their adversary. Ravenna had a magical gem with which she could control people’s minds, and some sort of mesmeric power as well. Maria thought that might be pheromones, but it was only a guess. Thor was full of warnings about what sorcerers could do. According to him, his own family was full of sorcerers, and his recital of their abilities beggared belief even when you had seen what _he_ could do firsthand.

His account tallied with that of one of the security personnel recovered from the installation. The young man had awoken in the hospital with burns and embedded shrapnel from a Drano bomb and a concussion with a tale to tell. A beautiful blonde sorceress from another world, mind control, Nick Fury turned into a pod person. The rest of the installation’s personnel - those who had not been sacrificed to cover Ravenna’s escape - were in custody on the ground while doctors tried to find a way to free them of the mind control.

And then there was Jane Foster. Fingerprints and DNA confirmed her identity, but the sorceress had somehow turned her into an old woman. Foster had let the doctors give her steroid injections for the sudden arthritis and then insisted upon being taken to the helicarrier where she could share what she knew about Ravenna and the cube.

It led to an awkward moment when she encountered Thor. He took in her appearance, looked sad, and blurted out, “Jane Foster. Has it been so long?”

Foster threw a clipboard at him. Maria thought he took that pretty well.

 

A flock of crows passed overhead as Natasha neared the ramshackle building where Banner was supposedly holed up. She was surveying the area attentively, but one thing she wasn’t prepared for was the crows merging into a person.

A woman. Statuesque and beautiful, wearing an emerald-studded crown on her flowing golden hair and a sumptuous gown of silver, something that would have been more in place at a masked ball than in rural India. Or than anywhere, really.

Natasha stopped several feet away from her, stance ready to flee or attack.

“Ravenna. What have you done to Clint Barton?”

Ravenna tilted her head. The intent way she studied Natasha would have been creepy even if she hadn’t been an evil sorceress. Ravenna’s expression wasn’t entirely unfamiliar. Beautiful women sometimes looked at other beautiful women that way, enviously measuring up a rival predator. But there was something more in Ravenna’s eyes. A bottomless well of poison.

“Do you love him?” Ravenna’s mouth curled, disdainful. “Do you think he will still love you when you are _old?_ ”

People never understood that a man and a woman could have a bond made of things far more powerful, more durable, than romance. “Love is for children. I owe him a debt.”

“And you imagine that he would show the same loyalty to you?” She stepped closer and Natasha smoothly moved away. “That if it were you in my thrall, he would come to your rescue?”

“I know he would.”

Ravenna smiled bitterly. “Never. Men use women. They ruin us and when they are finished with us they throw us to their dogs like scraps.”

“Sounds like you have a hell of a break-up story, lady. Why don’t I get us some Häagen-Dazs and you can tell me all about it while I braid your hair. Do you a world of good.”

Ravenna’s eyes narrowed, and at last the attack came. Warriors fashioned from the rocks and sand. Natasha launched into defensive maneuvers at once, but her kicks and punches passed through the fragments that made them with little more resistance than if she had been fighting water. A minute and several stab wounds later, the phantom warriors had her, held her fast. And Ravenna advanced to her.

“I am kind. I will spare you the pain of learning the truth about the man you love!”

The next moment, Natasha felt as if her very soul were being sucked out of her. She resisted, tried to hold on to herself, but she felt herself slipping away.

Both women were startled by a blood-chilling howl nearby, like the cry of some primordial beast. A moment later the house nearby exploded into splinters and a gigantic green man erupted from it.

Ravenna turned back into a flock of crows which promptly took flight as her phantom warriors collapsed. Natasha had the presence of mind to grab one of the birds and break its neck. She managed to smash the head of another against a pile of rock that had been a phantom warrior before they were all out of reach.

The Hulk was still howling. Natasha dove and rolled, pausing only when she was out of the beast’s reach. She forced her limbs to relax, making her stance unthreatening - but ready to run.

The Hulk screamed a few more times, smashing what was left of the house and uprooting a few trees before pausing as if very tired. Natasha watched, alert, as the creature shrank down into an ordinary man in tattered clothes.

When Banner lifted his head and looked at her, rueful, she found that she had been holding her breath and released it. 

“It’s been over a year since the last time the Big Guy came out.” He looked at what remained of the house. “Aw, hell. I think I broke my glasses again.”

“We can replace them,” Natasha said promptly, but in a calm voice.

“Who’s we?”

Uh oh. “Dr. Banner, I’ve come to ask for your help tracking a gamma ray signature. It’s emitted by a potential superweapon which she,” Natasha nodded at where Ravenna had been standing, “stole and is planning to use. There’s no one who knows gamma radiation like you do. If there were, that’s where I’d be.”

Banner looked thoughtful. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“I wanted you to know that it’s you we want, not the Hulk. ‘We’ are SHIELD.”

He walked to where Ravenna had been and nudged the two dead crows with a bare foot. Natasha would have to take the dead birds back to the helicarrier, something might be learned from them.

“So you’re going to stop this woman?”

“That’s the plan.”

“I guess I’m going with you, then.”

 

Maria stood with her arms folded, listening to Banner and Stark questioning Thor about the Tesseract. The session had been slow going at first; Thor knew none of their scientific terminology, and they didn’t know his magical jargon. When both sides had simplified their words enough, however, a few things became clear.

“What you’re saying,” Maria said slowly, “is that there is a network of portals between different worlds, and the Tesseract is a portable one. If you have the cube, you can travel to any other portal on the network.”

“Precisely!” Thor looked relieved that the mere mortals were finally beginning to understand.

The mere mortals were not relieved.

“But the cube’s also an energy source,” Banner said. When Thor nodded, he went on, “Which leads to the question: why’d your dad leave something that valuable on Earth?”

“For safekeeping. If we needed it, in a war perhaps, we could retrieve it easily, but our enemies could not use it against us.”

“Use it against you how?” Tony tapped a stylus against his palm.

“They could not use it as Ravenna did, to enter Asgard.”

“And if they used it to enter Midgard, too bad for us?”

Thor lowered his gaze for a moment. “It was my father’s decree, not mine.”

“Did your father not think that _we_ might use it against Asgard?” Banner demanded.

Thor glanced around the room, at the screens, the computers, the window overlooking a drop of thousands of feet. “We never thought humans capable of what you have now achieved.”

Tony took that as a cue to get smug, but fortunately that was when Captain America walked in. When introductions were made he called Tony “Mr. Stark”, which of course amused Tony greatly and started him on another course of ribbing.

Maria gestured Thor aside and lowered her voice. “So once we’ve stopped Ravenna, how do we stop other invaders from using the cube to come here?”

Thor met her eyes, grave. “You do not. That has always been the danger of the Tesseract.”

Maria thought that over for a minute. “My superiors want the cube back. They think it’s an unlimited energy source.”

“You think they are reckless enough to still want it when they learn of this danger?”

She gave a mirthless chuckle. “Hell, yes. Thor, just between us….”

“Yes?”

“Once we’ve found it, before the Council can whisk it away, I want you to take that damned thing off my planet and never bring it back.” And may Fury’s ghost forgive her.

He nodded, solemn. “You have my word.”

“Just say it,” Tony was insisting as he shoved a Starkpad at Captain America. “Say, ‘Tony, I’m afraid of new tech.’ Admitting you have a problem is always the first step.”

Steve gave the engineer a narrow-eyed look before shoving the computer back at Tony. “Gosh, Mr. Big Brain, your modern tech is so gol-darn confusing!” He snatched the pot of coffee from the coffee machine and pretended to stare at it in wonder. “How does this contraption turn water into coffee? Is it coal power, or is it… a miracle?”

Maria’s phone beeped. She took it out and looked at the little screen.

“That one’s just coal power,” Tony retorted. “The espresso machine, now _that_ one’s a miracle. But you probably don’t know what an espresso is. Pretty sure they caught on while you were doing the Rip Van Winkle thing.”

Maria cut them off. “We’ve got some footage of our suspect.”

Tony smirked. “She Who Must Be Obeyed on camera? Let’s see it.”

Steve widened his eyes comically. “On the new-fangled magic picture box?”

“Actually,” Tony said, “this _is_ the next generation of-“

“On screen,” Maria ordered. A display appeared in the center of the room.

Both men grew quiet. “This live?” Tony asked after a few seconds.

“Yes. She’s in Stuttgart. There’s a plane ready to fly you there right now.”

Tony moved for the door. “A plane? You kidding? Put on your tights, Cap.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of the bickering between Tony and Steve is taken from episode 6, season 1 of the animated series "Avengers Assemble".
> 
> This understanding of the Tesseract, like a lot of the ideas in this fic of how MCU magic and interrealm politics work, is from the awesome blog [Exploring MCU Asgard](http://exploringmcuasgard.tumblr.com/).
> 
> Oh - and I really did time how long it took Natasha to beat up all those guys in the movie.


	34. Chapter 34

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Three of the Avengers confront Ravenna in Stuttgart.

Ravenna watched with glacial serenity as her newest minions cast Dr. Schäfer to the floor, where he tried to stanch the flow of blood from his eye socket with the sleeve of his jacket. The humans were running around the large room, screaming and trying to find an exit, but Ravenna’s soldiers had blocked them all.

“ _I,”_ she began, using magic to make her voice carry, and when the humans quieted and huddled together, continued, “will be your Queen. I will bring my army to this world in a matter of days. Many kingdoms have fallen to my glory. I have conquered and devoured many worlds. I shall conquer and devour yours. There is no end to my power!”

Everyone looked terrified. She smiled, eyelids heavy, basking in their fear.

The outer doors slammed open and Thor, prince of Asgard, strode in. Ravenna at once conjured phantom warriors to fight him. Let him try to summon lightning indoors. Even if he could, he would hurt the civilians. No doubt he was as unscrupulous as any king when it came to women, but men of his sort deceived themselves about their kindness to the common people. At least those common people they had claimed as their own; how many women and children had been left without their providers and protectors by the Odinson’s quests for glory? How many enemy women had he used before their tears were even dry?

Two more warriors entered, one flying. Ravenna recognized them from Fury’s descriptions. Iron Man and Captain America. Two of the prospective Avengers. Thanks to Fury’s bungling, she had failed to claim the Avengers before the unconverted segment of SHIELD had done so. Now they could serve her only by being defeated by her.

Her soldiers fell on them at once. Captain America took out several of them swiftly by hurling his shield as if it were a weapon - Ravenna would have had any of her own warriors flogged to death for such foolishness - and knocking them unconscious. Iron Man stunned the soldiers who were guarding the doors so that the humans could flee. Ravenna snorted and conjured more phantom warriors. She had plans for Iron Man.

Iron Man shouted, “Cap, I gotta help Conan with the golems. Can a chivalrous guy like you hit a girl?”

Captain America gave her a look as if he were steadying himself to do just that. He flung his shield at her and she leaned back to evade it without effort. Almost idly she sent a burst of flame his way. His mask caught on fire and he whipped it off before charging at her. 

With a bolt of magic she knocked him off his feet, and when he began to struggle to stand, she saw his face at last. Swiftly she moved to him, caught his chin in her hand. He clamped his hand around her wrist and watched her, wary.

He was only a lad, barely a man. Fury had told her about the serum which had made him strong, but nature had been generous in the matter of his face. A strong lantern jaw and full lips perfect for kissing. Earnest eyes the color of the sky. He looked so innocent, so trustworthy. So kind. 

Hah.

“Such courage. Such beauty. There was a time I would have lost my heart to a face like yours.” For a few seconds, her thoughts were far away, to the time ages ago when she _had._ And what had followed. Her lip curled and her nails dug into his skin. “And you, no doubt, would have broken it.”

He tried to pull her hand from his face, but her grip was like iron. She savored the surprise in his face at her magically enhanced strength. There had been a time when she had been weak, at the mercy of any man who passed. Only her beauty had saved her, beauty great enough to make men want to possess her and guard her from others.

She was drawing her dagger to bind this pretty young man’s will to hers when a bolt of energy knocked her off her feet. Enraged, she crouched and saw Iron Man hovering in the air beside the Captain, one armed gauntlet still raised.

“Put up your hands and surrender nicely, Maleficent.”

She sent a torrent of shards of glass and stone directly into Iron Man’s face. Even with the visored helmet it disoriented him. “Jarvis! Cut the visual!” he ordered.

“ _You!”_ she hissed. “Fury told me all about you. I was ruined by a man like you once. A king. I replaced his queen, an old woman. And in time, I too would have been replaced. Men like you use women and cast them aside in favor of others.”

Iron Man was now zipping back and forth through the air, pursued by shards which tried to form themselves into warriors whenever he paused for a fleeting moment. “Hey, now, I’m an equal opportunity cad. I use men and cast them aside too.”

She sneered. “The depravity of men knows no bounds.”

“Listen, Blonde Ambition, it’s not like they don’t use me just as much.” To her shock, he hurtled straight for her, even correcting his course when she moved aside quicker than thought. It was his armor; its programming, like her magic, adjusted course before he or she had time to think of it. An instant before he would have collided with her, he flew straight up, but the shards were still on his trail and even with her magic shielding her, she had to act swiftly to deflect them before they pierced her. 

“Man of Iron!” Thor shouted. “The mortals have escaped. Take the captain and go.”

Without asking for the young man’s permission, Iron Man put an arm around him just under his shoulders and sped out the door. This left Thor free to summon lightning to fuse the phantom warriors into immobile statues, and if a few stray bolts struck Ravenna, that did not trouble him.

Ravenna gritted her teeth against the pain. It would not destroy her but healing was a drain on her magic. She needed youth and beauty to consume.

Ravenna had rarely consumed the life force of men. But an Asgardian - it was possible that such long-lived beings could give her enough life to survive for centuries. 

With great effort, she stood and moved towards him. He watched her, wary, but even after all he had seen of her, _still_ reluctant to hurt a beautiful woman. Men were fools, every one of them.

With her magic she reached for him, for his life force. And when her magic found it, it was more powerful than she had hoped. This was what she had been searching for, through all the worlds she had subjugated and wrung dry.

Alarm showed in Thor’s face, and he raised his hammer. The hammer was magical, she had already known that, but not that it could thwart her in draining someone’s life. It would have to be hers. All of Asgard’s magic and wealth would be hers. Thor had introduced himself as the _prince_ of Asgard. That likely meant there was a king. She had already failed with the son, she would claim the father.

Setting his jaw, Thor flung his hammer at her. She became a flock of crows and smashed through the window of stained glass. And flew swiftly to her lair.


	35. Chapter 35

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ravenna finds what she seeks, and the Avengers seek Ravenna.

It was too soon. The wise thing to do, Ravenna knew, was to wait until the portal was ready to admit her entire army. Thousands of fierce warriors, gathered from every world she had conquered and discarded, with marvelous weapons the humans would never be able to combat.

But she needed her brother now. She needed her mirror now.

She cut off Selvig’s warnings and protests and issued the order. He and his colleagues did her bidding with trepidation, opening a very small portal and bringing Finn through, dragging the mirror with him.

As soon as the portal had closed again, she went to him, resting a hand on his cheek, painfully relieved to have the one person she dared to care for at her side again. The only men a woman could trust were her brother and her father. Her father was long since lost to her, untold lifetimes ago. Finn was all she had left.

“Brother,” she said.

He smiled down at her. “My queen.”

She glanced over at some of her newly suborned soldiers. “Take that,” she gestured to the bronze mirror, “into my private chambers.” She turned to Barton. “Tell my brother everything that has occurred since my arrival, and everything about our plans. And bring him whatever he requires.” As an afterthought, she added, “Take him to the cells where the girls are locked up.” She gave Finn a warning look. “Just save some of them for me.”

She pressed her brother’s hand once more before leading the way to her own “chambers”. Which was a grand way of describing the small, dingy room which currently served her. She had ordered fine furniture brought, but little could be done with the dank walls and dim light of this bleak underground chamber. This was what Fury’s disloyalty had reduced her to. But Barton had convinced her that this was the only place where they could construct their portal in safety.

Ravenna wearied of scuttling in shadows. She meant to _rule_ this world, not burrow in it.

Once her minions had propped up the mirror - the fools had no grasp of its value, handled it carelessly - she screamed at them to leave. When she was alone, she stood before the mirror and let her gaze bore into it.

She did not ask her usual question. This world was vast - Fury had had to explain to her what a _billion_ was. More subjects than she had ever imagined on one world. There must be women more fair than she. It would take her years to consume them all and be the fairest again.

“Mirror, mirror, on the wall….”

Her voice trailed off as the mirror turned from a flat hammered disk of brass into a living thing that walked towards her and spoke in a sonorous voice.

“My queen, this world has many fairer even than you.”

Ravenna began to pace. “Of course it does. But I shall consume them all. And from here I can invade Asgard. The life force of Asgardians will keep me young for centuries to come.”

“There is another way, close at hand.”

She whirled to the mirror, urgent.“What?”

“There is one here who has the power to destroy your magic. Fair of face, pure of heart, the representative of the land, risen from a deathlike sleep. As beautiful within as without.”

“Just as my mother warned me,” she breathed. “The one who can destroy me is here?”

“But he may also be your salvation.” 

“ _He?”_

“The potion that made him strong can make you young. Take his beating heart in your hand and you will never again have to consume youth and beauty.”

“Who?”

 

“Run along, Uncle Sam, there’s no unicorns here to tame.” Tony made an adjustment to the display he was studying.

“We’re fighting a witch from another universe with the help of a Norse god. Unicorns can’t be far behind,” Steve retorted, taking a seat to watch Tony and Bruce work. 

“It doesn’t seem like other realms are the same thing as parallel universes,” Bruce said, not looking up from his screen. “It’s all the same universe, I think, just… really far away.”

“Agent Hill sent me here to tell you why Ravenna gouged out that guy’s eyeball. She says that with his… retinal scan, I think she called it… Ravenna’s accomplices stole some iridium.”

The two scientists looked at each other. Bruce took off his glasses and folded them between his hands. “Iridium, what do they need the iridium for?”

Tony called up a fresh set of displays from his Starkpad. “It’s a stabilizing agent. Means the portal won't collapse on itself, like it did at SHIELD.” For a moment he looked grim, serious. “Also, it means the portal can open as wide, and stay open as long, as Lola wants. And whatever Lola wants….”

Steve sat up straighter. “She said she has an army.”

“And the Evil Overlady is probably going to use the cube to bring it here.” Tony struck a few keys. “Keyboard, how quaint. Bruce, I just sent you the electromagnetic signature from our bunny boiler’s aqueous nanostructure.”

Bruce turned to a different screen and called up the data. “We can rough out a tracking algorithm, but it's going to take weeks to process.”

“If we bypass their mainframe and direct a reroute to the Homer cluster, we can clock this around six hundred teraflops.”

Steve looked at Tony, narrow-eyed. “Teraflops? Now that one I _know_ you made up.”

Tony only laughed, but Bruce smiled at him gently. “No, it’s real. It’s a measure of computing speed equal to one trillion floating-point operations per second.”

“Silly me.” 

“Most 21st century people wouldn’t know the term. It’s specialized computer jargon,” Bruce assured him.

Steve spoke hesitantly. “She’s from another world, right? So… is there some way you can track her… alien-ness?”

Tony smirked. “That’s what Bruce and I were just saying.”

“Oh.”

Tony studied him for a moment. “So, Ken doll. You do realize you’re encouraging the objectification of men with that skin-tight primary-colored outfit showing off your pecs and abs and legs and glutes.”

Steve shifted in his chair, awkward. “Do you ever think about anything besides sex?”

“Absolutely. Sometimes I think about money instead.”

Bruce made a final adjustment and headed for the door. “Yeah, I’m gonna go get a coffee.” He didn’t get the impression either of them noticed when he left the room.

 

Jane thought she had found a modicum of privacy in which to have a good cry, but Thor found her in the ops room and came to sit beside her, offering his ridiculously muscled shoulder without comment. Well, nature gave men those nice comforting deltoids for a reason. Jane let herself weep into his.

“You have borne your affliction most bravely, Jane Foster,” he said after a while.

“Only because it didn’t feel real, you know?” She sniffled. “I’ve been like in shock since it happened, and there was plenty else to focus on, but I just carried my laptop to my room from the lab and it hurt my wrists and I realized that I’m 32 and I’m going to die of old age in probably the next couple of years.” She pressed her hand to her mouth to muffle a fresh round of sobs.

A large warm hand cupped the side of her neck and Thor looked earnestly into her eyes. “Jane, when we have stopped that evil woman, I swear I shall take you back to Asgard with me. I cannot promise that our sorcerers will be able to restore your youth, but they will try. My mother’s powers are great. If Asgard’s healers cannot help you, I will take you to Vanaheim, to Alfheim, to Jotunheim - my brother has become a skilled healer. Do not lose hope.”

“I’m thinking your brother would come in really handy about now. She’s a witch, don’t we need a wizard to fight her? Can’t you, like, call him and ask him to come here?”

“I have no way of communicating with him. Travel between the realms was easy when we had the Bifrost, but I had to destroy it to protect Asgard from invasion. It took my father a vast amount of effort to muster enough dark energy to send me here.” 

“Whoa, whoa. What do you mean by ‘dark energy’?”

“It is a form of energy that lies fallow throughout the universe, permeating all of the Nine Realms. It cannot be easily harnessed as it repulses most other forces. Powerful sorcerers can harness it, but only at great personal… what?”

“It’s making the universe gradually expand, right? Makes up about 70% of the universe?”

Thor looked genuinely startled. “How did you know that?”

Forgetting her own distress, Jane leaned forward. “I wasn’t sure you meant the same thing that we do by ‘dark energy’, but we’ve been theorizing about such a force for a while now. We weren’t 100% sure that it even existed, And here you are, confirming it.” She shook her head in wonder. “So, can your brother do the mustering thing?”

“I am certain he could, but he has no need to. He can use the Casket of Ancient Winters to travel between the worlds.”

“So he could just drop in any time and give us a hand?”

“Loki has no way of knowing that we require his aid, else I would already have called to him. From Hlidskjalf, the throne of Asgard, the king can see everything in the Nine Realms, and I have told you of the powers of Heimdall, our Gate-Keeper. Loki has no such powers or artifacts. I doubt he has any idea what is occurring here.” Thor looked down at Mjölnir for a moment. “If we still had the Bifrost, I would have gone to Jotunheim before coming here, to ask for his aid.”

“They must be pretty pissed at you in Asgard for destroying it.”

“My father is, and Asgard’s warriors.” He smiled. “The rest of Asgard loves me for it.”

“What? Why would that make them love you?”

“For centuries, Asgard has been a warrior realm. Asgardians have never known when their men might leave them to fight and be gone for years, or perhaps never come back at all. Now that fear is at rest.”

She looked at him then, really _looked_. “You’re gonna make an awesome king.”

“That is very kind of you.”

 

Early the following morning, Maria, Natasha, Steve and Thor went to the lab to see what the scientists had discovered. First, however, Maria had a question for the closest thing they had to an expert on magic. “Thor, we just got a report that those of Ravenna’s soldiers who were taken into custody in Stuttgart have in most cases emerged from the mind control. It seems that the ones who’ve shaken it are the ones who got hit in the head. As someone whose family is full of sorcerers, is that consistent with your experience of how spells are broken?”

“It could be a trick of Ravenna’s - I know that had they been my brother’s henchmen I would not trust that they had escaped his control - but magic often has such simple antidotes. Complex spells are fragile and easily disrupted - with the right disruption.”

As Thor spoke, a young man in SHIELD’s black uniform entered with a newspaper. Tony seized it, then dropped it in front of Steve. “Here ya go, Stars and Stripes. I figured reading the news on a Starkpad would be a little too much for you.”

Steve pulled the sports section out of the paper. “Yeah, I was completely overwhelmed. Words on a screen, what they can’t do these days.” Thor picked up the rest of the newspaper and regarded it, curious. Steve looked pointedly at Tony as he continued, “They can’t find an alien witch with a magic cube, for one thing.”

“So what do you suggest, muscles? Going door to door?”

Bruce swilled down half his cup of coffee and rubbed his eyes. “Now that Ravenna has the iridium, the rest of the raw materials Agent Barton can get his hands on pretty easily. The only major component they still need is a power source.”

Steve frowned. “Does it have to be any particular kind of power source?”

“A high energy density. Something to,” Tony clapped his hands together and snapped his fingers, “kick start the cube.”

“They’d have to heat the cube to a hundred and twenty million Kelvin just to break through the Coulomb barrier.”

“Unless Selvig has figured out how to stabilize the quantum tunneling effect,” Tony finished, ignoring the blank expressions of the others.

“Well, if he could do that, they could achieve heavy ion fusion at any reactor on the planet.”

“I’ve got Jarvis making a list of every reactor on the planet that would work. But it’s a pretty long list.”

“Is there one in New York?” Thor asked, not raising his head.

“Sure. Seven of ‘em. Stark Tower’s one of them.”

“You mean that big ugly-“ Steve stopped, then plunged on despite Tony’s sardonic look, “-building in Manhattan?”

“Yes, that big ugly building in Manhattan. Sorry it doesn’t have enough flying buttresses for you.”

“Why do you ask?” Natasha said to Thor.

Thor at last looked up. “Because if I meant to conquer this world today, I know where I would start.” He held up the newspaper so that they could all read the headline.

**ENVIRONMENT TO BE CENTRAL TO UN SUMMIT IN NY**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Grey Bard pointed out the “representative of the land” connection between Snow White and Captain America. And helped me with the Steve/Tony bickering.
> 
> "Keyboard, how quaint," is a quote from _Star Trek IV_ , where they traveled back in time to the 80's and Scotty had to use an 80's computer.


	36. Chapter 36

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Battle of Manhattan commences.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aliens almost always invade New York City, which is dumb. It's not the capital of anything! Not even the state of New York! It would get attention and disrupt commerce, sure, but it really isn't the most efficient way to invade. How about Washington, London, Beijing?
> 
> In _Avengers_ it made a little more sense because the Tesseract portal, we were assured, required Stark Tower's sustainable energy thingummy. If you actually listen to what the scientist characters say about it, however, Loki should've been able to set up shop at any old nuclear reactor. Thus adding yet more support to the fan theory required to explain the massive holes in the script: that Loki intended for his invasion to fail.
> 
> But hey, we're here to watch superheroes beat up aliens, only the nerds will notice this stuff.
> 
> The sad thing is, there's a golden rationale for invading New York: the UN building. If aliens attacked New York when dozens of world leaders were gathered for a summit, that could cause plenty of disruption in the world's governments, not to mention having a devastating psychological effect on the world. And no alien invasion movie ever uses this!

Ravenna emerged from the cells feeling refreshed, leaving behind the withered bodies of half a dozen young women. Finn smiled when he saw her with her beauty and strength restored. 

Standing before the Tesseract apparatus, Selvig waited for her to issue the command.

“Open the portal.”

Selvig did. They watched the viewing screens as a hole tore into the sky above Stark Tower. After a few seconds, Ravenna’s waiting army began to pour through it, riding small craft and armed with guns that shot bolts of deadly energy. The warriors themselves looked human, but as with so many beings that looked human, they were not. Ravenna had gathered them from a dozen worlds, taking them from one to the next as she conquered and razed and moved on. 

They flew above the streets of New York, firing at pedestrians and vehicles, leaving death and explosions in their wake as they sped towards the UN building.

They were met by hastily assembled military and police forces. Who at least were able to slow them down, but the weapons of Earth were no match for the magical ones Ravenna’s army wielded.

Barton reported to her from his vantage point through the communicators humans had invented. “I’m afraid they already started evacuating the world leaders before we got here, ma’am,” Barton said. “Somehow they figured it out. It doesn’t have to mean today’s battle is for nothing, though.”

“Where are the Avengers?”

“At the UN building. Waiting for your army.”

“Remind everyone that Captain America _must_ be brought to me alive.”

“Will do, ma’am. What about the others?”

“Take them prisoner if you can. If not, kill them.”

“And Agent Romanoff?”

Ravenna did not miss the hitch in his voice. The gem’s power was not absolute. Barton still cared for the woman. Worse, it now seemed to be a brotherly affection, far more difficult to sever than a romantic one.

“I have already promised you, I will spare her for you. Bring her to me for conversion and she will fight at your side for the rest of your lives.” And Ravenna would keep her promise, if Romanoff lived and if Barton brought her so that Ravenna could put her under the gemstone’s thrall. Romanoff would grow old and ugly soon enough.

“Thank you, ma’am.”

She severed the connection. Finn was waiting for her attention. “All of our forces have passed through the portal, sister.”

“Then close it,” she ordered Selvig. He obeyed and she raised a hand to the Tesseract as if warming it at a fire, feeling its magic. With this relic the universe was hers. In a few hours, she would claim a dwelling more suitable to a queen. She would consume the heart of Steve Rogers and never again have to consume youth. After untold years of struggle and fighting, she would be at last safe.

She turned to her brother. “Go. Bring my prize to me. And our power shall be secured forever.”

He smiled and kissed her hand before leaving.

She watched the battle on the screens. Without the Avengers, the humans would have been swiftly subdued, but the green-skinned giant seemed unstoppable and Asgardians had been revered by lesser races as gods for a reason. Iron Man’s armor was powerful and the man within it cunning; he evaded the traps her forces set for him. The captain, for all his might, was merely an especially strong human and could have been subdued by simple numbers had he not had them at his side.

United, the team was formidable.

Ravenna neglected watching the rest of the battle in favor of keeping an eye on the captain. He fought bravely, tirelessly. Ingeniously. Iron Man aimed a blast at him and he deflected it onto Ravenna’s warriors as expertly if they had been fighting together for years instead of for a couple of days.

She smiled coldly at the increasing fatigue and discouragement on the faces of the warriors. They had actually believed that they might defeat _her_. 

The Asgardian was saying something to his comrades, no doubt suggesting some desperate measure that might avail them, when abruptly he stopped. All of them turned and stared.

“Show me what they look upon!” she snapped at the nearest minion. He pushed some buttons and she caught her breath. 

Another portal had opened on the ground near the UN building, and through it another army was pouring. Huge blue-skinned red-eyed men, nearly twice the size of the humans and of Ravenna’s warriors, conjuring blades of ice out of nothing and piercing their opponents with them. Led by a warrior of more normal size, also blue - and horned into the bargain.

On one of the screens, Ravenna could see Thor’s joyful laughter. Then she was so furious she could hardly see at all.

“Barton!” she shouted into the communicator. “How do we fight these blue giants?”

There was no answer. She called to her brother next. “Has Barton been killed?”

“No, sister. He is battling with the woman. Romanoff.”

The blundering fool. He was allowing his wish to have Romanoff on his side to interfere with his duty to his queen. When the battle was over she would kill them both. And she would keep her promise. They would be buried in the same grave.

The blue warriors kept pouring in, more and more of them. They were able to conjure ice beneath their feet to raise themselves to higher vantage points, from which they leapt onto the flying chariots of Ravenna’s soldiers, sealed themselves to those chariots with more ice and sent Ravenna’s soldiers toppling to the ground, where Earth’s forces would set upon them. In a matter of minutes most of the flying chariots were being flown by blue giants, and Ravenna’s army was on the point of being routed.

Drawing on the reserves of her magic, she raised a phantom army to aid her real one. The giants were able to freeze the fragments of the phantoms, so she pitted the phantoms against the humans, leaving her real army free to attack the giants. Then she called her brother. “Capture the captain. At all costs. Once I have taken his heart we can flee and begin again if my army falls.”

“Yes, my Queen. I will order your forces to distract the other Avengers.”

Ravenna watched the screens, tense. She could not find the leader, the horned one. Perhaps he had been struck down. 

Abruptly she lifted her head, like a predator sensing the approach of a rival beast. She whirled to the door. “Kill him!” she screamed.

Even before the door was flung open, a dozen guns were trained upon it. The horned warrior did not even have to make a gesture to raise his force fields; they caught the bullets in the air, where they floated until he let them all fall. 

“A sorcerer,” she snarled.

He smiled at her, confident, contemptuous. “Some do battle. I prefer tricks.” He inclined his head to her. “I am Loki. King of Jotunheim.”


	37. Chapter 37

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The battle continues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to Grey Bard for helping a LOT with getting Steve's voice right.

“Leave us,” Loki ordered the humans. _Ravenna’s_ humans. 

Instead those who were armed fired at him again, uselessly. Selvig huddled behind the Tesseract apparatus.

As the bullets clattered down to the ground, Loki looked at her with a slight frown. “Dismiss your henchmen or I shall be forced to slay them.”

She smirked at him.

Sighing, he raised a hand and whirled. Every soldier in the room fell over with an icy blade in his neck. Loki’s eye fell on Selvig, but Selvig he merely immobilized by encasing his hands and feet in ice. 

Then Loki walked towards her. With every step he took, ice formed on the ground beneath him. On his ear Ravenna noticed one of the communicators the humans used. He wore only a kilt of dark green and ornamental bands of green and gold on his upper arms. He was unarmed, his only weapons those he could conjure through magic. And he seemed unafraid of her.

The fool.

She began to raise a phantom army of glass and rock, but instead of fighting the phantom warriors, he struck at the source - her magic. The shards of glass fell harmless as the two of them battled. To any observer it would have seemed that all they were doing was standing motionless, glaring at each other, but in fact torrents of their power were surging at each other, locked in deadly combat.

At length they both withdrew, gasping. Ravenna had never encountered any sorcerer whose magic could compare to her own. She tried to smooth her features despite her panic.

“We are not that different. We both want this world,” she told him, tone alluring. “We should combine our armies, not set them against each other. It is vast, there is enough of it for both of us.”

He lifted an eyebrow at her. “What if I wish only to defend this realm, not to rule it?”

“You are a king. There has never been a king who was satisfied with his kingdom. All kings want more subjects, more lands.” She gave him her most enchanting smile. “More beautiful queens.” 

That seemed to catch his attention. “You are speaking of some king in particular, I think.” When she only looked at him, he went on more gently. “I too have been wronged by a king. By more than one, come to that.”

She stopped her sneer before it was visible. She could sneer at him all she liked when she had him helpless and drove a knife into his heart. “Do the kings who wronged you still live?”

“One of them does.”

“Then join with me and I shall help you defeat him. His kingdom will be yours.”

“And how will you do that?”

She smiled at him, raising her chin, letting him have the full effect of her beauty. Despite his alien coloring, his face was beautiful to her; it followed hers would be so to him. “He is a man, is he not?”

Loki did not take his eyes off her, but she could tell that he was thinking her words over. “He has a queen already.”

“So have most of the kings I have brought low.”

A smile spread slowly across Loki’s face. “That _would_ be an apt revenge. I might allow you to carry it out, if I cared nothing for Asgard. Or for Asgard’s heir.” He stepped closer, and she gathered her magic, for there was no mistaking the menace in his smile now. “And the queen you mean to replace? Is my mother.”

 

Clint and Natasha knew each other almost as thoroughly as they knew themselves. They had fought together and trained together for years now. Their duel was almost a dance, their abilities well matched.

“Tasha, once you join us, you’ll understand,” he said as he neatly evaded her kick and threw a punch which she evaded with equal neatness.

“Lady Voldemort tried to suck my life out of me.” She ducked under his next swing and jumped smoothly out of his reach, then leapt to the railing above them and brought her booted feet into his chest full force.

He rolled out of her reach to give himself a few seconds to recover. “Tasha, would I want you to join us if it wasn’t right? Don’t you trust me?”

“As much as you trust me.”

With that, she kicked him in the head. Hard.

 

Ravenna was poised to defend against another magical attack, but instead Loki simply enveloped her in ice. She forced herself to remain still, gathering herself as he approached, and waited until he was within reach before she shattered it all and seized his hand. He tried to freeze her hand but she engulfed him in fire. Loki screamed. After a long minute he struggled free despite her efforts. Then he crouched on the floor, panting, trying to summon the magic to heal himself.

She laughed at him. “How beautiful you are. Hair as black as ebony, eyes as red as blood, skin as cold as snow.” 

He shot her a poisonous glare. She lifted a hand and he drew a breath, obviously trying to marshal his strength to defend himself.

Before she could attack again, without warning agony coursed through her.

 

Something gave Ravenna’s forces - the living ones - new motivation. Suddenly the enemy was raining down on the Avengers, firing their blasters furiously, trying to overwhelm them with numbers. Steve stood his ground and gave the fight all he had. He might not be a pagan god or nine feet tall or wearing flying armor, but he wasn’t going to stand back and let them take the worst of it.

After several minutes, Steve began to realize that he _wasn’t_ taking the worst of it. And it wasn’t just Tony’s air cover catching the close calls. They just weren’t gunning for him like the others. Which didn’t make any sense. He was the easiest to defeat. They should have taken him down and gotten him out of the way.

When a pale man wearing black and gold armor went after Steve, bashing at him with his alien blaster like a cudgel instead of just shooting him, Steve got it.

They wanted to take him alive.

Maybe it was for the serum in his blood. That seemed like Ravenna’s kind of thing. Steve ducked a swing of the blaster and fought even harder, but he blocked Steve’s punches way too easily. This man was no pushover. Either his species was super-strong like Thor’s or Ravenna had done something to him with magic. He was a skilled fighter, experienced. 

Two more fighters joined Steve’s attacker. Steve knocked one out with his shield but another quickly replaced him. The new one fired his weapon at Steve, hitting him square in the stomach. The Kevlar of Steve’s uniform (he’d have to thank Coulson for that) got the worst of it, but the blast still knocked him over. Pain seared through his abdomen.

Blearily, Steve saw the man with the pale hair shoot the man who’d shot Steve. They were trying to take him alive, all right. Steve struggled to stand as the pale man and his soldiers advanced.

He wouldn’t have asked for help, but it came anyway. Suddenly Iron Man was between Steve and his attackers, blasting away. The pale-haired man buckled, bleeding from a gaping chest wound, his own armor no match for Iron Man’s weapons.

His lips moved. Steve barely made out the words.

“Sister! Heal me!” he rasped out.

 

Ravenna heard her brother’s plea as she writhed on the floor. It was his agony she felt, just as keenly as if the assault had been made on her own body. Her hands clawed the hard floor and she could see them wrinkling as Finn’s life force sapped at her own. Her phantom army was crumbling in the streets; she did not have enough magic to sustain it.

Loki’s magic, cold and alien and so different from her own, touched hers. Not an attack this time. More an exploration. She would have thrown it off at any other moment. Now she could not. Her strength was running out as her magic struggled to maintain the spells she had cast on her brother long ago, spells that would heal him and keep him safe to return to her side.

 _No,_ she thought. _We were so close. So close to being young and strong forever._

More of her magic rushed out of her to Finn through the connection her magic had formed with him over centuries. His wound was grievous and her own strength depleted by her duel with Loki. It would take much to heal him.

It would take all that she had.

“Forgive me, brother,” she whispered.

And severed the spells that linked them.

Instantly she felt her own strength coming back, mixed with wrath. She would kill everyone who had resisted her on this miserable world. They had taken from her the only person she had left. The only one loyal to her.

She stood slowly, fixing a deathly glare on her first victim. She would have struck down Selvig just for seeing her moments of weakness, but he was gone. She and Loki were alone.

Loki was looking at her, shocked. Horrified by what he had felt of her power.

“So much evil magic,” he whispered. “What have you done to yourself?”

“It is what men have done to me!” she shrieked, raising her arm for another attack. Before she could summon more power, he raised another force field, this one tight around her. She set to work to dismantle it, but it gave him the moments he needed to speak to her.

“Ravenna, we will defeat you.” His voice was very gentle, and she saw actual pity on his face. It only made her more furious. “We will kill you. I am the only one who will offer you mercy. The only one who _can._ Surrender to me-“ She scoffed, shooting him a venomous glare, and he shook his head. “I will not touch you. No one will. I am a powerful sorcerer. I can help you to heal what you have done to yourself.”

“And then what?” she spat. “Grow old? Die?”

He spoke softly. “Everyone grows old, Ravenna. Everyone dies.”

In a burst of rage and magic she decimated the force field he had around her and hurled virtually everything in the room at him, glass and stone and metal. Everything but the Tesseract. He crouched and raised a shield around himself barely in time, held it while the torrent tried to bombard its way through it.

Ravenna’s voice rose, enraged. “Do you hear that? It is the sound of battles fought and lives lost. It once pained me to know that I am the cause of such despair, but now their cries give me strength. Beauty is my power.” 

There was still pity in Loki’s eyes as he pressed the button on his communicator and began to speak into it.

 

Thor flung his hammer at one of the invaders’ flying chariots and waited, hand raised, for it to return to him. “Avengers! My brother tells me that he knows how to fight Ravenna’s magic.”

Tony hovered closer, blasting an invader who was about to shoot one of the big blue guys. “I assume he needs something from us?”

“She has so steeped herself in evil that only purity of heart can defeat her.”

“You’re not suggesting that we send Steve after the Devil Wears Prada.”

“I am.”

“No way, Goldilocks. Cruella De Vil will make hamburger out of him.”

“My brother knows of what he speaks.”

Steve took shelter behind an overturned car to catch his breath. “Thor, what do I have to do?”

“Go to her. Kill her. Any weapon will do so long as you are the one who wields it.”

Steve started to his feet. Tony hovered in front of him. “Cap, no way am I letting you do this.”

Steve nodded, resigned. “You’re right. It won’t work.”

“See? I knew there was a brain under all those rippling muscles. C’mon, bad guys to stop.”

Steve caught Thor’s gaze and held it for an instant. Something about combat could make people almost telepathic now and then. Thor gave the slightest nod and raised his hammer.

Only he directed the lighting he summoned at Tony.

While Tony’s suit was trying to process its sudden excess of energy, Steve stepped out of his shelter, arms raised. “You need to take me to your queen alive, right? Don’t shoot my friends and I’ll surrender.” Steve knew they wouldn’t keep their side of the bargain, but if he didn’t ask for something in return they would be suspicious.

“I swear it shall be done,” one of Ravenna’s warriors said. He wore silver insignia on his armor; Steve assumed it denoted high rank. “Come with us and your friends can escape peacefully.”

Tony was trying to get up, but his suit stalled. “Cap! Do not do this! You don’t have to be the hero all the time!”

“Thanks, Tony. If this doesn’t work, apologize to Agent Coulson for me, would you? I haven’t signed his cards yet.”

He walked to the enemy and allowed them to take him onto one of their flyers. He could hear Tony and Thor instructing their allies not to interfere with the squadron that escorted him to their queen. And Tony calling Thor a lot of very bad names.


	38. Chapter 38

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve faces Ravenna.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to Grey Bard for helping with my Steve voice for this chapter.

They took Steve’s shield away. He promised himself he would get it back. They tried to shackle his wrists, but he didn’t cooperate and they evidently didn’t care to risk damaging him before they got him to their queen. 

Steve got the impression they were surprised at the damage to the power plant that was serving as their base. There were huge holes in the concrete walls, broken machinery and dead soldiers - both Ravenna’s and Loki’s - everywhere, and ice. A lot of ice. June in New York and there were icicles hanging off the wreckage. 

Ravenna’s surviving Earth soldiers, eyes still eeriily blue, were standing guard. Several of them fell into step around Steve and his captors and escorted them to the central room, where they all hesitated outside the door.

“Go in and tell her we have brought Captain America,” the silver-insignia guy ordered one of the humans.

“Too scared to do it yourself?” Steve jibed. Silver Insignia could risk one of his own guys, not some brainwashed human.

Silver Insignia glowered at him. “Do it,” he snapped at the human, and it turned Steve’s stomach the way the man just obeyed. No hesitation at all.

When the man put his hand on the door handle, Steve couldn’t take it. “Stop. I’ll go in myself.”

They all looked at him like he was crazy, but nobody argued when he strode over, elbowed the guy aside and let himself in.

The energy in the room almost knocked him over. Just the feeling of it, even though he didn’t understand it, scared him. He tried to remember the certainty in Thor’s voice. Thor had been so sure that his brother was right, that if Loki said Steve could kill Ravenna, then it was true.

The room was dim, lit mainly by the ghostly blue light of the Tesseract. Loki was on the floor, leaning on his hands, panting and watching Ravenna with narrowed eyes. Ravenna, looking older and less beautiful than the last time he’d seen her, was standing a few feet away from him, hands raised.

If this was a magical duel, it looked like Ravenna was winning this round.

She did not turn her head when Steve entered, but she did shriek, _“Out!”_

“After your men went to so much trouble to bring me here?” he asked.

She whirled at the sound of his voice. “Why are you not bound?”

“I came quietly.”

Her eyes swept over him and found no weapons, no hidden magic.

“See, I’m falling in love with this guy. Tony Stark? I thought I’d let you spare me from having my heart broken.”

Ravenna did not take being mocked very well. She stopped whatever she was doing to Loki and advanced on Steve. Loki lowered his head, breathing deeply.

Steve kept his eyes on Ravenna. His weapons had been taken, but in the Army they had taught him ways of killing with his bare hands. He’d never had to kill a woman. That wasn’t going to stop him, but he didn’t have to like it.

He rushed her. To his amazement, she moved out of his reach at the last possible instant. No human could have moved so fast. He turned swiftly and tried again, grabbing for her slender neck. She leaned back, she shouldn’t have been able to keep her balance, but she did and grabbed him by his hair and threw him at the wall.

As he caught his breath, he winced. “They turn me into a supersoldier and I get beaten up by a girl.” 

He’d hoped that crack would make her angry, but she hardly seemed to hear him. A strange glow shone from her as she walked towards him again, her voice furious.

“You cannot defeat me! I’ve lived too many lives. Ravaged entire worlds.”

Steve stole the quickest of glances at Loki. Loki was watching him, alert, and Steve felt another instant of that fleeting telepathy. He focused on Ravenna again, kept his gaze on her. 

Ravenna was only a few steps away from him now, moving slowly, exultant. “I have been given powers which you could not even fathom.”

She leaned over and seized his collar, hauling him to his feet. Then whispered to him, as if to a lover.

“I will never stop. _Never._ ” 

He met her eyes and felt pity for her. In her eyes was bottomless pain, bottomless anger. That anger swelled in her voice.

“I will give this wretched universe the queen it deserves!” 

She rested her other hand over his heart. 

“By fairest blood it was done and only by fairest blood can it be undone.” 

He held her gaze even though he flinched as her fingers turned into sharp bony claws, already drawing his blood.

Her tone became intimate again, confiding. “You were the only one who could break the spell and destroy me. And the only one pure enough to save me.”

She drew her hand back enough to strike. Out of the corner of his eye Steve caught a flicker of Loki’s movement. He whipped his hand out and caught the dagger of ice Loki had flung his way and in the same fluid motion thrust the blade into Ravenna’s heart.

She stared at him, shocked. And then she only looked… _sad._

“You can’t have my world,” he said softly.

He held her gaze, pitying, as she crumpled to the ground. She clung to life for a long minute, her fingers wrapped around the already melting ice that had pierced her. She blinked one last time, blazing blue eyes becoming dull, before stilling. Her skin as well as her hair turned grey as Steve watched, and then her body slowly crumbled into dust.

When nothing remained of Ravenna, Steve met Loki’s gaze. “Thanks.”

Loki inclined his head. 

The door splintered out of its frame and Iron Man shot in. Hovering, he looked around swiftly. “Where’s the Wicked Bitch of the West?”

Steve indicated the dust on the floor. “Thor was right. Loki was right.”

“Thank God.” Just then Thor thundered through the door as well, took in the situation, and went to Loki’s side. “Er, thank the Norse gods. Whatever.” Tony landed and removed his helmet. “Steve, I was going to take the time to do this properly but now that I know what a fucking heroic idiot you are I’m not risking you getting yourself killed before I can.”

“What-“ Steve started, but Tony cut him off by pulling his head down and kissing him.

Thor grinned and averted his gaze when Steve embraced Tony and returned the kiss. “Their shield-brothers have been wondering how long it would take them,” he said to Loki in a quiet voice. “Are you hurt, brother?”

“Only exhausted. Thank you for telling them I could be trusted.”

They had so many questions to ask each other, but their eyes met for a second and then they were following the example the humans had set. Their lips met and they kissed long and hard, forgetting everything else, the years that had passed since they last met, the way loyalties had since changed and alliances shifted, the changes they had both gone through and strengths they had both gained. Right now it was only the pair of them, their arms around each other and a warm tongue and a cold tongue entwining languidly, together as they always should have been, all of their lives.

When their mouths eventually parted, they found that the humans were staring at them.

Naturally it was Tony who spoke first.

“So, ah. Is this brotherly love on Asgard?”

Centuries of guilt and secrecy had Thor hunching his shoulders, defensive. “He’s adopted.”

Loki smiled at him, mischievous and affectionate and beautiful, and all was right with the world.


	39. Chapter 39

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The enemy is defeated and Thor and Loki reunited.

Loki would have liked to drag Thor into a private room for a proper reunion, but the humans had to be dealt with. Uniformed humans were swarming through Ravenna’s base, arresting her minions and packing up the weapons. At least none of them argued when he said he had to check for magical traps. Unmolested he searched Ravenna’s bedchamber and command center, Thor trailing after him. Then again, being an alien sorcerer accompanied by a huge hammer-wielding thunder god did tend to discourage argument. 

“Where are Sif and the Three?” Loki asked as he rummaged through the sumptuous gowns the witch had piled throughout her dingy bedchamber, seeking magical artifacts.

“I came alone.”

Loki stopped and stared at Thor. “Your father sent you here alone? For _this?_ ”

“It’s not so easy to travel between realms since I destroyed the Bifrost.”

“ _You_ destroyed it?” Loki cursed himself. He had assumed that Odin would be the one who shouldered that unpleasant duty. Why had it not occurred to him that his valiant brother would be the one?

“I had no choice. Asgard would have been overrun with Dark Elves otherwise.”

Centuries of loyalty to Asgard made guilt swell in Loki’s heart, even though he had long since weighed the matter and settled up with his conscience. He could not have allowed Asgard to continue to oppress his people. It was his duty as their king, never mind that neither he nor they had ever wanted him on the throne of Jotunheim. Asgard was safe, he had been a prince of that realm and knew its defenses well. But that he might have damaged Thor’s reputation into the bargain, that was sobering. 

“Asgard must be angry with you.”

Thor shrugged, and Loki rejoiced to see his brother lighthearted and confident as ever. “The warriors are. They miss the fighting. The people love me for it. For warriors, the invasion from Svartalfheim was a chance for glory, but for civilians there would have been only fear and peril.”

Relieved, Loki was about to ask more when he sensed magic, angry and burning. It emanated from a dagger with a blue stone that positively radiated evil magic. Loki put a force field around it before lifting it, shuddering at the wrath it held.

“Could Ravenna’s tools not be dangerous?” Thor asked.

“They could.” Loki made the gesture that sent the dagger into the pocket dimension in which he sometimes kept magical artifacts. “It will have to be destroyed, but I will have to determine the proper way to do so or its power will only be unleashed.”

The only other magic Loki detected, aside from the faint traces inevitable in a room where magic had been used, was from an ancient mirror of hammered bronze. Loki studied it, intrigued. “This relic seems to be neutral. It can be used for good or ill.” He put it into his pocket dimension as well. 

As they moved to the door, Thor asked, “How did you know what was going on?”

Loki smiled. “The elves gave me a scrying mirror, to console me for my heartbreak when Princess Coselli refused to marry me.” Thor, who had met the fair and sharp-tongued princess, laughed aloud. “It only showed the user their own realm, but I found I was able to enhance it. I have not been keeping close track of everything, I fear, but I did look you up every few days to see that you were well. When I found this morning that you were no longer in Asgard, I learned where you were and saw the witch’s army entering this realm. I rallied my troops at once.” Loki winced as they stepped into the oppressively hot air of the outdoors. “And now I must return to them.”

By the time Thor had flown them back to the UN building, the battle was over. Many of Ravenna’s warriors were far past the age their species was meant to reach, or had been healed from grievous wounds and ailments by her magic. The moment she died, so did her magic, and so did those who lived only through it. The few remaining had no choice but to surrender and were taken into custody.

This left the humans to regard the Jotnar nervously, while the Jotnar on the ground tried to find shade and those who had claimed flyers from the enemy continued to zip about on them. As Loki was mustering his troops on the spot where their portal had opened, Thor and the Avengers at his side, a statuesque shield-maiden approached.

“Director Hill!” Thor beamed at her. “Brother, this is Maria Hill, one of Midgard’s highest ranking commanders. Director Hill - Loki, king of Jotunheim and my foster brother.”

“King Loki.” She inclined her head slightly, evidently unsure how to greet him, but the authority in her manner was unmistakable. She was the sort of person he needed to speak with. “We’re obliged for your help.”

Loki gave her his most charming smile. “It was intended as a gesture of good faith, Director Hill. I have been planning to open diplomatic relations with your realm for some time, but considering the last time my people visited this world, I thought it best to wait for an opportunity to demonstrate our peaceful intentions.”

“Good to know. I can arrange for you to meet with ambassadors, if you’re going to be here for a few days. But right now, what can we do for your troops?”

“A cooler place to rest would be most appreciated.” Two Jotuns careened over them on the alien flyers, whooping loudly, and Loki glanced up like an indulgent father. “And kindly allow us to keep the flying chariots my warriors have claimed. My subjects appear to have taken to them.” Loki phrased it as a request, but in fact he had no intention of relinquishing the flyers. If more of his subjects were this enthusiastic about them, it could be the way Loki had been seeking to interest them in manufacturing enough of something that they could establish more trade with other worlds.

“Just so long as we get to keep some of them,” Iron Man said. “I’m going to reverse engineer them.”

Hill was already issuing orders into her communicator. She turned to Loki again. “What do Jotuns eat?”

“Raw meat. Frozen or not.”

“And sugar,” Thor put in. Loki gave him a withering brotherly look, though actually he was delighted to have Thor tease him about his sweet tooth again after so long a separation, and Thor grinned. “The fruits of their world are exceedingly sweet, and so they like sweet things.”

Hill’s eyes moved between them. “I think I can arrange something.”

Within ten minutes several freezer trucks had been brought, much to the relief of the Jotnar, who had been wilting in the New York summer heat. Even the ones who had been flying were willing to land to gain the relief of the cold. Butchers’ trucks came with enough raw meat even to satisfy an army of frost giants.

But of course, the real road to peace between the realms was ice cream. The Jotnar all took to it instantly, and Loki realized he was going to have to find some way of providing the stuff for his subjects or face a palace coup. It would require some work, as Jotunheim lacked dairy animals. But first things first.

Having seen his troops happily settled, Loki allowed Midgard’s champions to take him to a private feast. He asked the proprietor of the shawarma shop if there was any still raw and received a baffled look and the information that there was, but it would have to be thawed. He assured the man this was unnecessary and was soon happily crunching frozen meat while the warmbloods watched as if they did not really believe he could enjoy such a thing.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to stare,” Captain America mumbled when Loki caught the soldier looking at him. Loki swallowed the bite of frozen lamb he’d been chewing and gave the lad a friendly smile.

“Quite all right. I have been stared at in every realm I have ever been to. Except for Niflheim, because there were no sentient beings _to_ stare.”

“That dragon stared at you,” Thor reminded him.

“The dragon stared at you just as much. He was trying to decide which of us to eat first.”

“Dragons,” Bruce Banner said, looking at the two of them. Thor laughed and told the story, and the humans listened, dazed.

Another Midgardian commander entered the shawarma shop, a man with a quietly friendly manner but an alertness in his eyes that revealed him for the warrior he was beneath his mild manner. Thor introduced him to Loki as the Son of Coul and invited him to join them, even moving over so that Coulson could sit at Thor’s right hand, between Thor and Captain America. Iron Man was on the captain’s other side and the way the two of them kept looking at each other was all the announcement anyone else needed.

Coulson looked at the captain happily for a few seconds before making himself turn to Thor to report. “Jane Foster’s recovered. There were several young women imprisoned in Ravenna’s hideout. I’m afraid she killed several of them, but those who were alive regained their youth and health the moment she died. Her mind control over her human accomplices seems to have dissolved as well. Agent Barton seems fully recovered. Of course, Romanoff did hit him on the head pretty hard….”

Thor smiled. “I am most relieved.” He turned to Loki. “I hope you can meet Jane, Loki. She is so clever - the two of you will like each other. It was she who sheltered me when I was exiled here.”

“You may get that chance, your Majesty,” Coulson said to Loki. “We’ve arranged diplomatic meetings for you. If you like, we can fly you to Alaska - it’s part of this country, but much cooler.”

Iron Man insisted that the Avengers should accompany the Norse gods. Loki got the impression that he was proposing this out of curiosity about magic and aliens - the few moments that Iron Man spent not gazing at the captain, he was regarding Loki with frank interest. In the end, the Avengers, Loki, and Thor boarded the helicarrier after Loki called to Býleistr to use the Casket to take their warriors home. 

“He’s been watching through the scrying mirror,” Loki explained to Thor.

“Do you not fear he might usurp you?” Thor asked in a low voice as they watched the Jotun army return home. “I now see how lucky I was. I never worried that _my_ younger brother might betray me to take my throne.”

Loki smiled at the little jest and its implicit compliment. “It is not impossible. But I don’t believe that he will. Býleistr cares more for his people than for his throne. He knows he cannot serve Jotunheim as well as I can. And if he did take it, I would still have the satisfaction of knowing that I was the one to restore the realm.”

“Why did you not simply bring the Casket with you? You could have routed Ravenna’s army in no time with it.”

“The Casket is never leaving Jotunheim again.” Loki and Býleistr had agreed upon this and made it Jotunheim’s most sacred law. “We shall never take that risk.”

Thor nodded, somber. 

Loki looked at him. “Are you angry at me for reclaiming it?”

“No. I am glad you did. I did not like what was done to Jotunheim. I confess that when you first took it I was alarmed, but you have governed the Jotnar wisely.”

“I hope you get a chance to see Jotunheim again now that it is restored. You would not believe how beautiful it is. It is as beautiful as Asgard now.”

Thor smiled at him. “I am so proud of you, brother.”

Loki held his gaze. “You still think of me as your brother?”

“As I always have.” And in Thor’s vividly blue eyes Loki saw a glint of mischief matching his own.

When they boarded the helicarrier, Hill was waiting for them. She informed Loki there would be meetings the following morning if he was agreeable. He was. Then the brothers evaded her by pleading exhaustion.

When they came upon Iron Man, he was just escaping from the son of Coul. Coulson looked satisfied and Iron Man harried. “Is all well, my friend?” Thor asked him as they all headed for the ops room which had become the Avengers social room through use, or rather, misuse.

“The knight errant back there just gave me a shovel speech.”

“A what?”

“Threatened me if my intentions towards Cap were dishonorable.”

“But they are not, surely!”

Having recovered his aplomb, Iron Man leered. “Of course they are.” They reached the ops room, where Captain America and Bruce Banner were sharing coffee, and Iron Man immediately went to the captain’s side. He lowered his voice but Loki could hear him saying, “Cap, we gotta do something about this purity of yours. It’s dangerous.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s not what Ravenna meant by purity, Tony.”

“Better safe than sorry. The Volsungs over there told us dragons are real. Next thing we know one’ll show up and demand you for dinner.”

Loki glanced at his brother, amused. Their eyes met and a moment later they turned and left the room together.

As they moved away from the door, Loki heard Banner saying, “I thought they were brothers!”

Iron Man retorted, “Don’t ask, don’t tell.” 

The moment they were alone in Thor’s room, Thor and Loki embraced, naturally and easily. They kissed and wound their arms around each other as if they had all the time in the world.

After a few kisses they looked into each other’s eyes for a moment. “All these years,” Loki murmured, “we felt so guilty.”

“No longer.” And Thor captured his mouth again, and they were lost for a time in each other’s lips and tongues.

“My cold really does not bother you?” Loki asked after a time. Thor smiled.

“I like it.”

From the day Loki had been turned to his true form, he had not believed Thor could still want him. Even when Thor had seduced him in Niflheim, he had hardly credited it, even with Thor screaming his name and spilling into his hand.

There was no longer any doubt in Loki’s mind. For a fleeting instant he remembered how bitterly he had wept when Odin had first changed him, how he had hidden even from himself for days after. That might as well have been a thousand years ago. Now there was no more loathing in him of his Jotun form, and no lingering uncertainty about Thor’s feelings.

Heart light, he started pulling Thor’s armor off. Thor reached to help and soon nothing of that powerful body was still hidden. Loki pulled off his ornamental green armbands and his kilt carelessly, no longer afraid of Thor’s reaction. Nor did he have reason to be, because Thor only hesitated long enough to search Loki’s face. Seeing only desire and no fear there, Thor let himself look everywhere, touch everywhere. 

“I’m ready now,” Loki murmured in answer to Thor’s unspoken question. He backed up towards the bed, pulling Thor along. “I want you to have me in the one way you haven’t yet.”

Thor lowered him onto the bed and Loki pressed against him happily. Their bodies molded together as they had so many times before, but this time there was no shame tainting their joy in each other, no rivalry or envy marring their affection, only pleasure and love.

Thor raised himself on one elbow enough that he could watch as his hand made its way down Loki’s chest, over Loki’s hard prick and finally down to Loki’s wet cunt. He smiled a little, breathless, as Loki moaned at the touch. And then set about showing Loki the benefits of having a quim.

Loki felt as if he were going to melt under Thor’s touch. The new sensations so enraptured him that he could do nothing but lie back and allow them to wash over him. In the years since he had worn his Jotun form, he had lain with no one but Thor, and that on only two occasions. He was long overdue, and still new to some of the feelings his new body was capable of.

“Thor. Now, please.” Loki’s voice was rough even to his own ears. He delighted in the triumph he saw in Thor’s eyes. He knew that look, had seen it looming above him many times before Thor took him apart with bliss. Loki shivered with anticipation.

Thor kissed him, very tenderly, and then slid into him, looking intently into his eyes. 

Loki had loved being fucked by Thor in his solely-male form. But it had always hurt, at least a little, occasionally a lot. Always it had felt as if Thor were forcing his way in, never mind how eagerly Loki had welcomed the invasion. But this - now Loki felt his body opening itself up to receive Thor, drawing him in. He wrapped his legs around Thor, possessive, and moved to meet his thrusts fiercely. Thor wrapped his arms around Loki, cradling Loki’s head in one large hand, crushing him close as they strove together. 

“Loki.” Thor’s breath was hot against his ear. “I love you.”

“I love you,” Loki gasped.

Greedily Thor snatched a kiss, then drew in a desperate breath. Still moving against Loki, holding his gaze, he spoke, panting the words.

“Not as a brother. Not only. You are - there is only you. Loki.”

Loki’s hands tightened on him and he bucked up into Thor, hard. “Yes. You are - all to me. Brother. Lover. All.”

Thor buried himself in Loki again. And again. And he looked almost afraid as he whispered, “Loki. I belong to you.”

And that was all Loki could endure. He all but screamed Thor’s name as his body convulsed in pleasure so intense it hurt him.

Thor did not take long to follow him over the edge, and they collapsed together, still pressed as close as they could possibly be.

Nothing would ever come between them again. Loki knew this in his very bones. They were now united as they always should have been, no longer restrained by shame, no longer forced into false competition for their father’s favor and throne. 

After a long time, Loki spoke. “Thor. Will your father do anything to you, if he learns of this?”

Thor smiled and Loki reached to smooth his beard, relishing the freedom to touch without fearing the sudden pounding at the door. “Are you offering me asylum on Jotunheim?”

“Well. If you need it.”

“I doubt he will do anything. I will no longer go obediently to the training yard to request lashes, and I am certain he knows it. And he will not risk forcing Asgard to choose between him and me, not now.”

“Has he lost so much of Asgard’s loyalty?”

Thor settled himself more comfortably, with Loki’s head on his chest, and stroked Loki’s horns and hair. “I think he may have been too clever for his own good with you, Loki. The people now view his every deed with suspicion. How can Asgard trust a man who for a thousand years told everyone that a frost giant was his son?” Thor held him even closer at that, as if afraid the words would hurt Loki, but the sting had long since gone out of that particular aspect of his fate.

“And he took the risk, however remote, of a Jotun one day sitting on the throne of Asgard.”

“You have proven that you are a good king. You would have ruled Asgard well had it ever come to that.”

“Perhaps.”

Thor laughed suddenly. “This is the trouble with bedding princes and kings. The pillow talk inevitably turns to politics.”

Loki laughed as well. “What better way to bring peace to the realms?”

“We will not allow our realms to war against each other again.”

“Your father may have other ideas.”

It was a long moment before Thor replied, and when he did, his voice was quiet and grave. “If he does, I will prevent him.”

Loki stayed very still. He knew all that Thor’s words implied, and that Thor would expect him to know. He also knew that, for all Odin’s faults, Odin’s son - Odin’s only son - still loved him.

“You have a duty to your father,” Loki said at last, testing.

“And a duty to Asgard.”

They both knew which took precedence. There was no way princes could help learning that, however kings might try to obfuscate that detail as they trained their heirs. 

Loki was trying to find some words of reassurance when abruptly a new sensation stilled him. Were he not a sorcerer he would never have detected it, but to one with his well honed magic, it was unmistakable.

“What is it?” Thor asked, and Loki realized that he had laughed aloud in his delight. What he was feeling was so strong it amazed him that Thor could not feel it as well, but his brother was no sorcerer.

Loki lifted his head and smiled down at Thor. He would keep his delicious secret for a time. “We shall never be parted again, Thor. Not in spirit.”

Thor returned the smile, loving and confident. “Never. Our duties will keep us on our separate realms often, but you are mine and I am yours and nothing will change that now.”

“Nothing.” And Loki rose up and straddled Thor, claimed Thor’s splendid body again with hands and mouth. And at last he impaled himself upon Thor, and brought himself to ecstasy again with a future king in his cunt.

And another in his belly.


	40. Chapter 40

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jotunheim and Midgard form an alliance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now that I've written most of the story's conclusion, it breaks up best so that there will be a final total of 42 chapters.

At dawn an irksome buzzing woke Thor and Loki. Thor reached for the phone on the nearby table and looked at the display.

“The mortals summon you?” Loki asked, chuckling sleepily.

“Director Hill requests my aid.” Thor rose and quickly pulled his clothes on.

“Do you need me?”

Thor leaned over the bed. “Always.” He kissed him. “But for now, you can go back to sleep.”

“Good.” Loki sank back into sleep before the door had closed behind Thor.

 

When Loki finally rose a couple of hours later, Agent Coulson immediately approached him in the dining room. “Do you know where your brother’s gone?”

Loki’s warm haze of contentment was dissipated instantly. “Is he not on this floating fortress?”

“No. And he took the cube. We think he’s gone back to Asgard.”

“Of course he has.” Loki sighed as he accepted the tray of ice cream and raw bacon a uniformed aide brought to him. This was potentially trouble for him, but he could not in fairness blame Thor. Thor had a duty to his own realm. Asgardians needed the means to travel to other realms with the Bifrost gone. The Tesseract did not represent the same sort of threat as the Bifrost. It could only transport people among its network of portals, and even for a powerful sorcerer, using it to open a portal large enough to transport an army was the work of several days. 

Even so. Odin _was_ a powerful sorcerer. Loki would have to keep a close eye on what Odin was doing with the cube. It had other uses, as the humans had been learning. The Tesseract was a dangerous thing to have. That was why Odin had stored it on Midgard, centuries ago. That Odin was willing to risk having it on Asgard was cause for concern.

Loki had known that the perfect happiness he had felt the night before could not last forever, but he had rather been hoping it could be stretched out for a few days.

He considered returning to Jotunheim immediately, where he could consult the scrying mirror and perhaps use the Casket to go to Asgard to tell Thor that he had sired the next king of Jotunheim. (And, perhaps, also a future king of Asgard.) But Loki, like Thor, was constrained by his duty to his realm. There would never be a more favorable time to form an alliance with Midgard than the day after Jotunheim had helped rescue it from an invasion. Odin and the Tesseract could wait for a few days.

Loki spent the next week in Alaska meeting with ambassadors and heads of state. The heads of state especially seemed keen on getting their photo taken with him, the alien king. Loki also endured a couple of interviews with Midgardian journalists, knowing as he did the value of the goodwill of commoners. Still he much preferred talking in private with the ambassadors, who in practice had much more authority than their supposed rulers. He also spent hours talking to the Midgardian “scientists”, their word for humans who found nonmagical ways of harnessing magic. Tony Stark, Bruce Banner and Jane Foster had excellent minds and curiosity as insatiable as Loki’s. They hung on every word he uttered about Yggdrasil, dark energy, and magic in general. When they in turn explained some of science’s more abstruse theories, Loki realized that the other realms had made a mistake in ignoring Midgard for so long. These short-lived, unmagical beings had nonetheless managed to begin to understand how the universe actually worked, with no magic of their own and no aid from more advanced beings.

In return for his knowledge, they gave him a towering stack of books about, well, about a lot of things, but chiefly about how refrigeration worked (Loki could use this information to create comfort for his people when they travelled to warmer realms) and about how vehicles like Ravenna’s flying chariots could be built. Stark explained that humans did not yet have all of the technology required to make them, but that all he needed was a few days to play with them and he would figure it all out. Loki was similarly confident about his own progress on the problem, once he was back home and had settled things with Asgard.

Trade agreements were formed. At this point, Jotunheim had little other than ore to offer, but it turned out that some minerals, such as iridium and vibranium, were oddly rare on Midgard. Jotunheim had these in abundance. 

And Loki finally found what might be the key to creating a place in Jotunheim for runts such as himself. There were now a few dozen little blue runts in his palace orphanage, and despite what he had told his half-brothers about offering them in marriage to nobles of other realms to seal alliances, he had always intended to find some better route. Midgard might offer it. The humans agreed that Jotunheim’s runts could attend school on Earth, learning what Earth had to teach and bringing knowledge of Earth technology back to Jotunheim. The humans persisted in calling this “exchange students” even though Jotunheim had no schools suitable for humans to attend, so there would not actually be an exchange. Maria Hill found several schools in Earth’s colder areas willing to consider educating alien children, but then Loki explained that he could transform them into humans as Odin had transformed him into an Asgardian. Loki had never performed the feat but had no doubt he could do it. 

The project had not even begun and Loki was already worrying about the Jotun children he was going to send here. How would they feel about having their form changed, even knowing it would be changed back when they returned home? Already they were alienated from their own people, who would have left them to die if not for Loki’s decree. Now they would spend years on foreign realms. There would be divided loyalties, confusion. Loki would do everything he could to help them with that. He would make sure there was more than one little Jotun at each school, that they would have at least a few of their own kind with them. He would watch over them closely, would know and act if anyone hurt them, would know and try to help if they were unhappy. He would do everything in his power. There would still be troubles and there was no way of avoiding that.

The humans were willing to send Jotunheim vast amounts of ice cream and frozen yogurt. Which, it turned out, came in an abundance of flavors and varieties. Still the Jotnar would need the means of making their own. On investigation it turned out that reindeer were the only dairy animals well suited to Jotunheim’s climate. In return for one ton of vibranium, Midgard gave Jotunheim enough reindeer to start breeding them. Loki learned in the course of the discussion that many of Midgard’s arctic animals were endangered, partly because humans had grown too numerous and were encroaching upon their habitat, and after much discussion it was agreed that the frost giants would try to breed some of these species on Jotunheim and eventually repopulate the creatures on Earth.

Midgard also requested labor as part of the trade agreement. For a moment Loki was on his guard, remembering Alfheim’s insolent request for Jotun slaves, but Midgard, it turned out, no longer approved of slavery and wished for voluntary help. They wished to call on the Jotnar for rescue when human vessels were wrecked in icy lands, or for aid in the small amount of work done in areas barely habitable by humans. There were a handful of scientists in Antarctica, for example, and occasional help from beings suited to such temperatures would be invaluable to them.

Finally, Jotunheim agreed that if any other world, in or out of the Nine Realms, attacked Midgard, the Jotnar would aid in Midgard’s defense. Like every other sentient species Loki knew of, Jotuns had a need for battle. This was the best path Loki could see to keep his people from reviving their old ambitions of empire.

For days Loki worked out these matters with various humans, all the while worrying over what Odin would do with the Tesseract and relishing the secret he had yet to share with Thor. In imagination he savored the joy he would see on Thor’s face when he told him. Almost as sweet was the thought of the wrath on Odin’s.

After a week Loki decided that he had built a good foundation in Midgard. He had to return home. While a crowd of intrigued humans watched, he stood in the center of a field with a crate full of books and several full of ice cream and a small herd of reindeer and called to his half-brother. Býleistr opened a portal with the Casket and a few Jotuns stepped through to carry the crates. Loki gave the humans a final farewell and stepped through the portal, returning to Jotunheim.

“Welcome home, half-a-brother.”

Loki smiled at Býleistr’s old jest. The Jotnar were cheering him, cheering their little king who had given them a battle and glory and ice cream. Loki hoped the affection he had slowly won from his people would extend to his half-Asgardian heir.

But then, he himself had gone from overlooked younger prince to king of one of the most powerful realms in the Nine. He had gone from barely tolerated viceroy to the beloved king who restored Jotunheim to its former power and glory. Reconciling Jotunheim to a half-foreign heir was well within his abilities.

Loki had a dish of several flavors of ice cream brought for Býleistr. The Jotuns who had been on Earth had been telling the others of this new delicacy and all were eager to try it. Býleistr was so enraptured he could not pay attention to Loki’s news of their alliance with Midgard, so Loki gave up for the time being and went to the throne room, where he had set up the scrying mirror so that Býleistr could use it. 

He looked into the mirror and called up images of Odin and the Tesseract. He stared for a moment, then swore.

Then he hurried back to his half-brother and the Casket. He had hoped for a brief rest, but it was not to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, my theory of how the Tesseract works is taken from [Exploring MCU Asgard](http://exploringmcuasgard.tumblr.com/).


	41. Chapter 41

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Odin's plans for the Tesseract.

Had Thor been king already, he too would have wanted the Tesseract restored to Asgard. He had no wish for the return of the Bifrost, giving Asgard’s most bloodthirsty the means of enforcing the realm’s power. Asgard, Thor believed, had grown too powerful from the Bifrost and been corrupted. Odin’s calculated emotional cruelty to his own adopted son was a glaring illustration of this. More haunting were Thor’s memories of Jotunheim. When he had first gone there it had been a broken realm, slowly dying without the Casket of Ancient Winters. Worse was the reprisal Asgard had visited upon the realm after Loki had bargained to use the Casket for one full week. The sight of rubble and dead frost giants and withering forests had sickened Thor. What glory was there in this? When Loki had stolen back the Casket, Thor’s sole concern had been that the Jotnar might attempt to conquer other realms with it, as they had tried to do a thousand years ago. When that had not happened, he had been only glad for his brother’s realm.

Thor was no sorcerer. All he knew about the cube was what he had been told. He did not know what uses a clever sorcerer might put it to. 

And so the shock was great when he discovered that Odin was using it to rebuild the Bifrost.

Thor’s arguments had, of course, been useless. And so he watched somberly as the bridge was recreated.

As soon as the work was done and Odin had returned the cube to the vault, Thor would take up Mjölnir and shatter the bridge again. And then he would at last accept the harsh necessity he had begun to suspect was looming before him, of dethroning his father for the sake of the realm, of all the realms. And Asgard’s response if he again destroyed the bridge was incalculable. Now all but the warriors were happy he had relieved them of the danger of invasion and the burden of maintaining Asgard’s power. If he destroyed a second Bifrost, the warriors would hate him and who knew how the civilians would respond. Every prince knew how fickle the love of the people could be.

Not to mention how fickle the love of a king could be. Or a father. Once Thor had carried out his duty, he might well find himself mortal and without Mjölnir once more. Loki would come to his aid this time, Thor had no doubt. Likely Odin knew that too, and would not relinquish Thor again lest Loki claim him. The possibility was nonetheless daunting.

But Thor knew his duty, and so he stood in the Observatory, watching his father reconstruct the Bifrost and awaiting the moment it was finished and he must destroy it.

On the shore odd multicolored lights began to flicker, and Thor turned, gripping Mjölnir more tightly. He knew the signs of an opening portal when he saw them.

The portal opened, and warriors stepped through. Two Jotnar. Two Muspels. Two elves. Two Vanir. Two dwarves. 

The warriors made no move towards the Observatory where Thor, Heimdall and Odin were now watching, ready to fight. They made no move into Asgard to attack her buildings or people.

All they did was raise their various weapons and bring them down onto the new half-built Bifrost.

Odin tried to move to combat them, but the power splintering up from the shattering bridge kept him at bay. “Stop them!” he ordered Thor. Thor felt cold - never before had he so openly disobeyed his father and king - but he only smiled sadly. Odin glared at him. Thor watched the warriors closely. If any of them offered harm to any Asgardian he would kill them. If their only target was the Bifrost, they had relieved him of a painful burden and he would allow them to go in peace.

In a matter of minutes the new Bifrost was reduced to fragments. Then Loki stepped through the portal. He froze the water before him and, surrounded by the warriors of four realms, advanced to the Observatory. The Muspels remained on the shore, observing. 

“We are not here to bring war to Asgard.” Loki’s voice was clear and carrying. “We are here to stop Asgard from bringing war to us. 

“I bring a message from the rulers of the five realms represented here. Never again will the Nine Realms be terrorized by Asgardian warriors dropping from the sky without warning.”

Odin glared at his adopted son. “Asgard has kept the peace for thousands of years.” 

Loki’s mouth twisted bitterly. “My people have experienced your idea of ‘peace’. A millennium of starvation and misery and stagnation. And violent reprisals when I attempted to ease our misery by a small measure.”

Loki’s eyes moved briefly to Thor. Thor kept his expression grave, but he knew Loki would see the agreement in his eyes. Loki had always understood him. Better than he understood himself at times. He still remembered Loki trying to tease him out of his nervousness the day he was to be made king for the first time. Despite Loki’s own envy and worry over Thor’s unreadiness to rule, still Loki had tried to ease Thor’s apprehension.

Loki looked back to Odin. “Asgard may keep the Tesseract, but we will not allow the Bifrost to be rebuilt. Try it as many times as you like, we shall come and destroy it again and again.”

Loki locked eyes with Thor for a fleeting moment before turning and leading his varied squad of warriors back to the portal. A moment later they were all gone. 

 

Odin locked the Tesseract away in the weapons vault and commenced a round of negotiations with other realms. With half the realms united against them, Asgard now needed allies. The three realms not represented in Loki’s attack on the Bifrost were little help: Niflheim, a desolate realm inhabited chiefly by brute beasts; Midgard, not yet advanced enough to stand against any other realm without help, and already allied with Jotunheim; and of course, Svartalfheim.

Odin did attempt to forge an alliance with the Dark Elves, but the disapproval of the Thing and the generals was so vehement that even he thought better of it. Dark Elves had long been notorious for betraying their allies; only desperation could have led Odin to consider it. 

Next came talks with Vanaheim, Alfheim, Nidavellir, and Muspelheim. The latter two were not even willing to contemplate alliance with Asgard; old grudges were held. Vanaheim and Alfheim demanded more of Asgard than Odin was willing to concede. In addition, they wanted the alliance sealed with a marriage, and Thor flatly refused to marry any princess of Vanaheim or Alfheim. Once again Odin commanded and Thor defied him. They argued briefly. Abruptly Odin relented. “You should not be forced to marry against your wishes, my son.”

Thor suspected that Odin had given in only because he did not care to test whether he could actually force Thor to obey him. At last Odin was learning, from harsh necessity, to be cautious in his demands.

 

It was one month after the destruction of the second Bifrost that Odin projected an image of himself into Loki’s study. Loki was not surprised. He waited, curious to see how Odin would make his approach.

“Are you satisfied with the harm you have done to your home, Loki?”

Loki chuckled, leaning back in the chair of ice he’d conjured. “I have done no harm to Jotunheim, Odin. And not being allowed to terrorize the other realms does not ‘harm’ Asgard.”

“You grew up on Asgard. You have lived most of your life there.”

“And was never accepted or esteemed there, even before it knew I belong to a race it sees as monstrous. But you aren’t altogether wrong. I still am loyal to Asgard - far more than it ever was to me. But to my own realm first.”

“Jotunheim would have killed you as an infant. I saved your life. I raised you as my own son. I am still your father!”

Loki laughed mirthlessly. “Do you truly imagine such arguments will still work on me?” He looked away for a moment, old pain welling in his heart. “For a thousand years, I was eager to do anything you asked of me, in the hope of making you look at me the way you looked at your real son. You tested my devotion to you much too far. You squandered that loyalty.”

“However bitter you may be, you owe your throne and your very life to me!”

Loki sighed. “I wish you had come to me as one man to another, one king to another, to ask for an alliance. But no matter. My half-brother and the Jotun nobles and I have discussed this. Jotunheim is willing to form an alliance, but not because of any duty you think I owe you. Asgard will have to offer incentive. You will have to agree to reciprocal defense obligations, and the nobles think that in return for a thousand years of misery, we are entitled to ask for a few gifts.”

Odin looked grim. “What gifts?”

Loki took a paper from his desk and held it up so that Odin’s image could read it. For centuries to come, Jotunheim wanted healing stones and food. Not enough food to live on, Jotunheim was now teeming with life; the items it wanted were luxuries such as honey and sugar cane, things not to be found on Jotunheim.

When Odin began to speak, Loki cut him off. “Don’t try to negotiate. I learned this game at your knee. These are our terms. Agree to them or face the other realms united against you alone. And there is one other condition.”

“Do not push me too far, Loki.”

“Excellent advice, King of Asgard. Advice you yourself should have taken.” Loki waved the paper before dropping it back onto his desk. “These are the terms of my people. We have not yet discussed _mine._ ”

Odin looked wary. “Yours?”

“I am king. Jotunheim cannot form an alliance without my consent. Now, why would I agree to an alliance with Asgard?”

“So you seek petty vengeance now.”

“Not at all. I merely take advantage of this opportunity to obtain what I want.”

“And what is that? Cease riddling me.”

Loki stood and stepped to a few inches away from Odin’s image, holding his gaze, triumphant. “Odin All-Father, you have only one thing I still want.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the Thor 2 prelude comics, which forced me to write this as catharsis over Odin's A+ Parenting, Odin and Heimdall use the Tesseract to rebuild the Bifrost. 
> 
> As with so many of my ideas about how this universe works, my belief that Asgard's hegemony comes from the Bifrost, which allows them to drop warriors anywhere out of the blue with no warning, comes from [Exploring MCU Asgard](http://exploringmcuasgard.tumblr.com/).
> 
> A big part of why I had to write this story was to say that parents like Odin, who withhold affection and approval as a way of controlling their children, will continue to withhold those things no matter what those children do. Had Loki (in the movie) been a cautious regent during the Odinsleep and not killed any of Asgard's enemies who Odin had taught him to hate, he still wouldn't have gotten the pat on the head he hoped for. There is literally nothing Loki could have done with his stint on the throne that would have won Odin's approval. Odin would probably have been mad at him for being regent at all, even though it was clearly Frigga's decision and not Loki's. Not attacking Jotunheim or Midgard obviously wouldn't have made Odin love Loki either, since Loki spent centuries not doing those things and Odin didn't love him (or at least, not very much) for all that time.
> 
> Even if Odin had followed through on his plan to make Loki puppet king, there is nothing Loki could have done with that job that would have made Odin love him. That, unfortunately, is not how love works.
> 
> As for Loki's condition for an alliance with Asgard, I suspect y'all can guess what it is. It's an idea I've wanted to use for a long time. 
> 
> The final chapter will be posted tomorrow.


	42. Chapter 42

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The story concludes.

_Five Years Later_

 

Frigga watched Módi, her grandson, as he played in her garden. He reminded her very much of Thor, not only from his golden hair and leonine face, but also from his bubbling joy in life, his easy affection, his adventurous nature. He started climbing a tree, too confident to see that the branches were much too far apart for him and would be until he grew several more inches. Módi managed to scramble onto one of the lowest branches and eyed the next one, out of reach and tantalizing.

He was so much like his father.

 

Five years ago, after the other realms had destroyed the second Bifrost, Frigga’s husband had looked to form other alliances. Her own advice had been to send Thor to Jotunheim to make a treaty with Loki. Her sons, she knew, were loyal to each other. Odin had preferred to approach his estranged foster son himself. The only reason he had not bungled it was that Loki had already made his mind up to ally with Asgard. For a price.

Odin had stalked out of his chambers and found Thor in Frigga’s garden, where Thor had been unburdening himself about the attempts of the Vanir and the elves to snare him in matrimony. Thor and Frigga had risen and bowed while Odin glared.

“Now, Thor, it seems you are finally paying the price for your perversity.”

Thor had braced himself, resigned, for another quarrel. “You can stop flinging princesses at me, Father. I might as well tell you: I am going to marry Loki.”

This was the first Frigga had heard of Thor’s intentions. Her heart had leapt with hope. She only regretted all the years that she had hidden the truth from her sons and allowed them to continue bearing guilt that should never have been theirs.

Odin stared at his son, shocked. “The two of you have planned this, have you?”

“No, I have not yet asked him. But I am certain he will not refuse me when I do. We feel the same for each other as we always have.” Thor smiled tightly. “Except that we are no longer ashamed. Because now we know that we are not brothers.” 

“You believed you were and that did not stop either of you.”

“I have never understood why I felt as I did for the man I believed was my brother. But I did and do. Do not forbid me to wed him, Father.”

Odin had slowly moved to a seat and leaned upon Gungnir almost as if it were a cane. He looked very old, very weary. As angry as Frigga was at him, she had felt pity for him then. However foolishly he had hardened his heart, there was a time when he had won hers. He had not always been what he now was.

Thor saw it too, and moved to his father’s side. “Father, please. Be joyful that I can have both love and a powerful alliance for Asgard.”

Odin did not look joyful. He fixed his son with an accusing stare. “I just spoke with the king of Jotunheim.” The title was spoken with venom. “He is willing to form an alliance, but only on the condition that I grant him your hand in marriage.”

 

Módi evaluated the distance to the next branch. The measuring expression in his wide green eyes was hauntingly familiar, so much so that Frigga had to laugh. Módi was also very much like his mother. But when he launched himself into the air toward the higher branch, he was being his father’s son. And when he missed the branch by a few inches and fell, he reacted as his father would have done, by scowling at the branch as if it had wronged him instead of by crying, and then scrambling back onto the lowest one all over again.

This time the child pulled off his belt, threw it over the next branch, and tried to lever himself up using it. He was not quite strong enough to manage it, but she watched the attempt with pride. Módi was also his mother’s son.

 

When Loki had come to Asgard to claim his bridegroom, Frigga had been the only one present to see her sons’ reunion. The instant Loki saw Thor he had begun his assurances. “Thor, I won’t force you to go through with it if you don’t wish to, you don’t have to-“

Thor had stopped his betrothed’s protests by seizing Loki about the waist and hoisting him high to twirl him around, laughing exuberantly, then setting him back on his feet and kissing him soundly. Frigga had not looked away, too happy to see her sons united again not to watch them. And seeing the joy and relief on their faces when their lips parted had dispelled any shadows of doubt that might have lingered in her mind. Brothers or not, her boys belonged together.

Perhaps she should have left them alone then, but she was eternally glad she had not, because her tarrying allowed her to witness the happiest moment yet. The two had fallen into disjointed conversation, leaping from one subject to another in the delirium of their happiness, and in a few minutes Thor teased Loki about Jotunheim’s enthusiasm for the cold Midgardian dessert recently introduced to it. “This is the first time I have ever seen you without thinking you needed a week’s worth of good meals.” Thor had poked Loki’s stomach - which was really only very slightly more padded than usual - as he spoke.

“That is entirely your fault,” Loki had retorted.

“How is that-“ Thor had stopped as he caught on, and the amazed delight on his face was the most beautiful thing Frigga had ever seen. Except perhaps for the radiant joy on Loki’s. Bursting with happiness herself, Frigga had slipped out of the room unnoticed, leaving her sons to celebrate their happy news. 

 

Módi finally gave up on trying to climb the tree and ran to the edge of the lake. There he shifted to blueness and summoned enough ice to walk upon. The child had been taught not to freeze his grandmother’s flowers, and usually remembered, but making a path of ice on the lake that he could walk on was allowed. 

Frigga thought the blue skin of her grandson’s other form was very striking with his golden hair. She wondered sometimes if the boy would grow horns when he grew up, and if he did, what his Asgardian form would look like with them. Either way, he would be a very handsome man, like both of his parents. 

 

Frigga had long officiated over the weddings of all high ranking Aesir. Long ago, Midgard had dubbed her the goddess of marriage. So it was she who bound her sons’ wrists together with the cord of silk and said the blessings over them, as the two of them gazed into each other’s eyes with joy. 

When Módi was born months later, she had been shown in to see him. She had paused for a moment to take in the eternal tableau: the new mother, lying propped on pillows, exhausted and proud; the new father, hovering protectively over them; and the infant, sleeping peacefully in his mother’s arms.

Loki had allowed her to hold the child. To her amazement, at her touch the child had shifted from Jotun to Asgardian, and shifted back when she returned him to Loki’s arms a few minutes later. That was how the child was to shift form until a few years later, when he had become able to control the change himself. He was adorable either way. 

Frigga worried about how the child’s dual nature would affect him as he grew older. For now, he was safe in the bosom of his family, surrounded by people who loved him in both his aspects. This could not last forever. But with enough trust in their love, Frigga hoped Módi would be able to face those who feared or loathed one of his forms.

On the day of Módi’s birth, when Frigga had still been sitting at Loki’s bedside marveling over her new grandchild, a servant had come in with the message that Odin requested admittance. Frigga had seen the way Loki’s arms had tightened protectively around his child, how Thor had unconsciously tensed in readiness, and the sight had broken her heart. Neither of her sons trusted their father any longer. But after a moment, Loki had told the servant to show him in.

It was not lost on any of them that Odin, king of Asgard, had requested entry. Not demanded it.

Frigga had tactfully looked away from Loki’s face and into little Módi’s. A tiny part of Loki still stubbornly hoped and wished and always would, however Loki tried to cast that out of his heart. 

Odin came in, and Frigga noticed that he was not holding Gungnir. He approached the bed slowly, looking faintly sad when he saw the blue-skinned, red-eyed infant. But he carefully placed his hand on the child’s torso, and smiled a little when the baby turned Asgardian at his touch.

“You changed like that the first time I touched you,” he told Loki. Who looked up at him for a moment with red eyes full of painful longing and quickly looked back down to the child. And placed a cold blue hand on the child’s head, making him Jotun again.

“My son will grow up in both of his forms,” he said quietly.

Odin sighed and stepped back, looking at the child. “Even blue, he looks like Thor.”

Loki nodded, smiling a little at the baby. “He does.”

Thor had only smiled, contented. For a time the room was quiet except for the baby’s gurgling.

“I hoped,” Odin said at last to Loki, “that we could unite our kingdoms one day and bring about permanent peace, through you.”

Loki looked at his foster father, his face carefully blank. Thor and Frigga were intent upon watching Loki, ready to offer comfort.

“This is not how I expected it to happen,” Odin went on, “but you have united the kingdoms.”

With that Odin turned, a weary old man, and left them. 

Loki had blinked hard a few times, and then forestalled any attempts at comfort by insisting on showing Thor how to hold a baby. Like most new fathers, Thor was petrified of breaking the tiny child, who could almost have fit in one of his palms. Like most new fathers, Thor got over that fear swiftly.

 

Frigga heard her sons entering her garden, coming towards her. She kept her eyes on her grandchild, allowing his parents to come and stand on either side of her. The three of them watched Módi together as the child ran back and forth over the lake on his peninsula of ice.

“I don’t know how he doesn’t slip,” Thor remarked.

“If frost giants couldn’t walk on ice without slipping, I think we would be in a great deal of trouble,” Loki retorted.

Hearing his parents’ voices, Módi turned to them, waved, and then ran back to shore. He changed form again before leaping into Thor’s arms. Thor held him easily in one arm, laughing as the boy turned and held out an arm to his mother. “Mother!”

Loki moved to put one arm around his son and the other around his husband. Thor kissed Loki’s forehead and wound his free arm around Loki.

In a moment, Frigga would move to join her children in their embrace. For now, she preferred to stand back and watch. And see that they were happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In Norse mythology, Módi is one of Thor’s sons, but the myths do not name his mother. No problem, myths, we got this.
> 
> So far as I know, this is the only fic about what might have happened if Odin had carried out his plan of making Loki viceroy of Jotunheim. There are fics where Loki grew up on Jotunheim, and fics where he claims the Jotun throne for himself after the events of the movies, but I haven’t seen any where Odin makes him king. If anyone knows of any others, please link me!
> 
> And thank you so much, everyone who's stayed with this fic for the past two months! The comments and kudos nourish my soul. :-)


	43. Cover Art

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This novel was available as a paper fanzine for a while from Agent With Style. AWS has closed down, but below you can enjoy the beautiful cover art by Carolina Marcondes.
> 
> ETA: This novel is now available again from Requiem Publications at http://requiem.ravenshadow.net/ !

Cover art by Carolina Marcondes:

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/14480995@N04/13961028757)


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